


Troublerouser

by thechavanator



Series: Troublerouser [1]
Category: Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Roleswap, Brief Mention of Suicide, Multi, Mute Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI), Pre-Relationship, a plethora of Funky Nicknames for Faris's brief appearance, all new flavors of thief trauma, background veronica/mia, brief oc mention, claps repeatedly LET! THE COBBLESTONE GIRL! DO! THINGS!, continual references to Traumatic Injuries, generally following the events of the game. generally., i accidentally act 3 as a sequel so. yeah. oops., is that seriously not a tag. ANYWAY., mention of past hendrik/jasper, my canon-tinkering reaches its logical conclusion, some of the later swaps are a bit spoilery!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-01-25 15:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 79,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21358588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechavanator/pseuds/thechavanator
Summary: "The crash! of Erik’s former bedmate, a pot gone too soon from this sinful earth in his quest to destroy his cell, is met in turn by a flash of red light from the opposing cell, the one the scratching had come from. Through the glow of the cell bars that the Frizz spell had hit, he could see a figure shrunk against the back of the cell, and- is that a hole?!Seriously, where are the guards in this place?"Or, a roleswap AU.
Relationships: Camus | Erik/Hero | Luminary (Dragon Quest XI)
Series: Troublerouser [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1660339
Comments: 158
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MONTHS AFTER MY SOLE SERIOUS CONTRIBUTION TO THIS FANDOM, I RISE
> 
> So I joked to the Soldiers of Smile discord about a roleswap AU where Eleven was the thief and used Divide for non-combat purposes (read as: smut), and then the idea bashed me on the head and ran away and suddenly I had half a chapter and a whole new NaNo project. I had a whole lot of fun just thinking of ideas for this!
> 
> The swaps introduced in this chapter are Erik and El, obviously, and an allusion to the fact that Serena is Erik's childhood friend from there. Hmm, who could be filling her role, then?

The prison is dead quiet. Eerily so, considering the guards had stressed that this was the maximum-security section, for the most dangerous criminals known to Heliodor. So why is it so...

Oh, there it is, when Erik listens closely. A faint scratching sound, an occasional sharp inhale, followed by a gentle _whoosh_ that suggested healing magic, if he remembered his lessons with Granddad Jasper. And a faint green light accompanying the latter, confirming his suspicions.

Erik isn’t really well-versed with jail cells, but surely the guards should be checking that, right? (Are the guards even still here? Or did they all leave with that knight...Dusty, was it?)

No, it didn’t matter, he can’t just sit in here! He has a world to save, assuming Granddad Jasper was right, of course. Maybe there‘s something in this cell he could use...

The _crash!_ of Erik’s former bedmate, a pot gone too soon from this sinful earth in his quest to destroy his cell, is met in turn by a flash of red light from the opposing cell, the one the scratching had come from. Through the glow of the cell bars that the Frizz spell had hit, he could see a figure shrunk against the back of the cell, and- is that a _hole_?!

Seriously, where are the guards in this place?

“Hey, no need for the fireworks!” he calls. No response: not even the scratching noises, just pure silence, at least for a few moments. Then, a quiet huff of air...and another flash of red light. Another Frizz.

Before Erik can react, a guard (_there_ they are!) meanders over. Still a smidge too casual for a maximum-security prison, he thinks, but he won’t look a gift horse in the mouth, he supposes. He shuffles closer to the front of the cell, eager to see how _this_ shakes out. If he’s going to be down here for the foreseeable future, he might as well enjoy himself.

“Cut the racket down here, boys, I’m trying to sleep!” the guard yells, drawing himself ever closer to the offending cage, and just as Erik questions the intelligence of directly approaching a cell that’s currently spawning fire, he watches the guard crumble to the ground. In his wake lies a gloved hand, firmly clutching a pair of keys.

Impressive. Also a glorious demonstration of the lacking security here. What is Heliodor even _doing_?

With a quiet jingle the opposing cell door unlocks and swings open. The figure emerges, revealing themself to be...quite small. Certainly not the outline of the kind of hardened criminal Erik expected to find down here. But then again, Erik was hardly the type himself. Just a small-town man with godly power on his side. Or something like that.

The stranger moves quickly, somehow never letting his hood fall down, into a nearby room; Erik can’t see where they’ve gone, but it doesn’t really matter, since they return just as quickly, keys (seemingly, since Erik can’t see much under the hood) dangling from their mouth.

Erik questions the wisdom of such a move. They’re probably covered in stupid guard germs.

Lost in his guard-related thoughts, he jumps to attention when the door to his cell swings open and his knapsack is lobbed at him.

_“I didn’t expect the Luminary to be into property damage,”_ the stranger signs.

Wait, signs? Well, that would explain the quiet.

“Well, desperate times and a— how do you know I’m the Luminary, anyway?” he sputters.

Their form shakes, as if they’re laughing at him (they probably are). _“I have working ears! And you really should get some gloves.”_

Erik glances down at his right hand. “Huh.” When he looks back up, the faint lighting in the prison seems to illuminate the stranger a bit; he still can’t make out too much, just a pair of big blue eyes, gleaming with silent laughter.

Yeah, this kid definitely isn’t the hardened criminal type. Why _are_ they here? What could they have possibly done?

They gesture towards their cell. _“So, do you wanna stay here for the rest of eternity? Or do you wanna blow this joint?”_

Erik nods, following them in and taking a quick glance at the ground; it looks like they had a similar idea to him, judging by the pottery shards lying around. Perhaps that’s how they dug it, since a number of them look particularly jagged and dirty. He brushes that line of questioning aside as the pair of them gently drop down the hole.

\---

The escape is not as easy as Erik would have expected, given the lackluster amount of guards by their cells.

The stranger pulls Erik behind a tower of crates, holding a finger to (what appears to be) their mouth. They peek out from behind the boxes and dart past the instant the nearby guards’ backs are turned.

Erik isn’t so lucky; his greatsword weighs him down and his feet thump a little too heavily in the otherwise-quiet catacombs. The guards immediately whip around to face him.

Well, shit.

The stranger sighs audibly, and Erik can see their gloves glowing with a dull crimson light as a line of fire ignites under the guards’ feet. He punches each of the guards in turn, purposefully opting not to look at them as their bodies crumple to the floor.

It’s one thing to kill monsters, but he’d rather not kill humans, thanks.

_“Not very sneaky, huh?”_ the figure signs when Erik’s eyes next find them.

“I can be _plenty_ sneaky when I want,” Erik counters under his breath.

_“And right now you just don’t want to, huh?”_

He readies to fire back, but his newfound companion (well, his companion until they get out of here, probably. Erik isn’t _that_ naive) shushes him again. The two dart around the catacombs, successfully evading the guards this time...at least until they find themselves at a bridge. Nowhere to hide, with a whole mess of guards hot on their trail.

Not for the first time, Erik has one thought in his mind: _shit_.

It’s a genuine relief when the bridge collapses under their feet…right up until they meet the ground.

It’s safe there, at least. The guards sure as hell aren’t following them down, and the nearby goddess statue should keep away any (theoretical, Erik hopes) monsters. He takes a moment to catch his breath, casting a quick Heal that Granddad Jasper hadn’t needed to teach him — and boy did _that_ make sense with the whole Luminary business, now that he thought about it — and blinking in surprise when another green light overlaps his.

He glances up at his fellow jailbird; their hood is still up somehow (unless they fixed it while he wasn’t looking, of course), and the faint glow cast by their magic doesn’t really show him anything new, aside from a few tattered bits that were whole before their little tumble.

“I’m not a kid, I can take care of myself,” Erik mumbles.

They step back, rapidly signing _sorry_ before something in their posture changes; they straighten up, flames dancing from the tips of their fingers. _“Well, who’s gonna save the world if you die here? Or anywhere, for that matter? I sure as fuck couldn’t, so why risk it?”_

“So you don’t buy into all that Darkspawn stuff, then?”

They shake their head. _“I have it on pretty good authority that Heliodor is full of idiots.”_

“Right. Well, even idiots are bound to find us at some point, right? We oughta get a move on.” He hears a quiet huff of air that _might_ be a laugh as the two of them make their way through wherever exactly they landed.

_Wherever exactly they landed,_ as it turns out, is in the sewer system. Erik had figured his adventures would take him to all sorts of places — Serena had gushed about the adventurers in her romance novels long enough for him to pick up on some expectations — but this is, to be honest, not one he had predicted.

Such is the life of a criminal, he supposes, even if the crime in question is…his birth?

He shakes off the thought as they traverse the twisting path, keeping an eye out for soldiers. Every creak or crack, even the slightest _pop!_ of rock against rock sets his companion (Erik really has to learn their name) on edge for a moment, it seems. Probably some innate thief instinct.

A low, rumbling growl echoes from a nearby room. The two freeze, just for an instant, Erik reaching for his greatsword and the other clutching a dagger they apparently dug out of their pocket. He doesn’t quite know how to activate the lightning thing on his own yet, since Yggdrasil apparently wants him to suffer, but if he can figure out that sigil Granddad Jasper tried to teach him, surely nothing can stand in his way, right?

The growl grows ever closer, and ever louder, until Erik catches a glimpse of a _huge fuck-off dragon._

Okay. _Maybe_ dragons can stop him.

Screw the greatsword, he thinks, screw magic, the two of them just have to _run_. He instinctively grabs their hand, pulling them through the last remaining stretch of hallway and (hopefully) out of the dragon’s blast range. It’s the least he can do, really.

The light grows ever closer, freedom is within their grasp…until they finally stumble out of the sewers and gaze off the top of a _terribly_ high cliff, higher even than the Tor, if he has to guess. And to add to the terrible melted sundae that is their current situation, the guards finally got their act together and found them.

On one side, life imprisonment, if not outright execution. (No one had really said either way.) On the other, almost _certain_ death.

Erik feels a tug on his sleeve and turns toward his new friend. _“They’re not getting any closer,” _they note, turning their head towards the guards. “_So…how do you feel about heights?”_

“Well,” he begins, “I climbed a huge cliff on my birthday and didn’t pass out. But…are you really suggesting we _jump_?!”

_“Hey, you’re the Luminary! I don’t think Yggie’s gonna let you die _that_ easily. Or at all, hopefully.”_ They rest their chin in their right hand, seemingly thinking about something, and then almost jump out of their thoughts, hands practically flailing in their enthusiastic signing. “_But just in case…”_

With one fluid motion of their right hand, their hood falls, resting surprisingly-elegant on their shoulders, and suddenly Erik loses all thought of the impending death jump; the only word in his head, once again, is simply _shit._

Just as he thought, this stranger was not the kind of person who probably should be kept in a high-security dungeon. He is, quite simply, the prettiest boy Erik has _ever_ laid eyes on, hair still somehow perfect after Yggdrasil-knows how long in the catacombs below the city, big blue eyes sparkling with hope and a cocky grin growing wider by the minute.

_“E-L-E-V-E-N,” _the boy signs. “_My name, not my age. You know, just in case you end up six feet under and get the chance to sing my praises to Yggie.”_

“Erik,” he manages to reply through bursts of laughter. “Alright, you ready?”

_“Not really,” _Eleven admits, _“but I get the feeling anything’s possible so long as you’re involved. So if I have to put my faith in something…” _His grin turns sheepish. _“Well, I suppose there’s worse folks to believe in, huh?”_

Oh no, Erik can feel his face turning red. He was always a sucker for pretty boys complimenting him…_keep it cool, keep it cool…_

“On the count of three, alright?” he says, once he manages to wrangle a coherent thought. Eleven nods. “Okay, one, two-”

Eleven grabs his hand and practically _yanks_ him off the cliff.

He can almost make out the shocked screams of the guards as they watch the pair fall; he raises his free hand and flips them off. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Eleven looking at him. He can feel Eleven shaking with laughter, and when he turns to look at him, he spots Eleven’s right hand in the air flipping the guards off, too.

Perhaps this isn’t the start he expected to his grand quest, but as he gazes at the sky, at the beautiful view around him as he soars through the air, at the very excited boy next to him, he can’t really bring himself to regret how everything’s turned out so far.

At least until he hits the ground.

\---

He comes to in the middle of the river. He catches his Mark glowing, so it’s safe to say Yggdrasil helped him out; in fact, he doesn’t appear to be injured at all. He’s never really been the praying type, but he mentally sends a quick thanks to the tree anyway. (The Mark pulses again, so he assumes She was listening.)

He quickly surveys the area. No guards, no monsters (at least not yet), unconscious boy…Oh.

Erik can’t spot any scratches or bruising on Eleven, at least on the parts of him he can see. He’s still breathing, he still has a pulse, he just…isn’t waking up.

_Might as well return the favor from earlier,_ he figures, fingers glowing green as he weaves together a Heal spell. He rests a hand on Eleven’s shoulder, letting the magic do its work. He can’t quite tell if there’s anything to patch up, but he’d rather be safe than sorry. And sure enough, Eleven’s breathing eases, just a bit.

He’s still not awake though, unfortunately. And they can’t afford to wait around; if Heliodor’s military force is serious enough about this Darkspawn thing to lock him away, they’re surely going to ensure that he’s not still running around. But he can’t just leave Eleven here, not after the healing spell and the jailbreak.

(_And especially,_ that pesky Gay Idiot part of his brain notes, _not when he’s so damn pretty…_)

Well, it’s decided, then. Erik slings Eleven over his shoulder and prays that no monsters find them. He just needs to find a campsite…or even better, as his eyes catch a church atop a nearby hill, a bed or two to sleep in?

Eleven isn’t too much more awkward to carry than Serena was, on the relatively-often occasions that she’d fall asleep somewhere outside and refuse to wake up. (Come to think of it, he’s probably _shorter_ than Serena, so less awkward then.) The hill is more of a problem; Erik’s tiring far more quickly than he ever had back in Cobblestone, and it seems the sun’s trek through the sky is going faster than his own on the ground. But he has to power through, he has to reach that church…

A voice startles him out of his thoughts. “Oh, you poor dears!” A blue-clad woman rushes up to him; in his exhausted state, and with the cover of night quickly descending, it takes him a few moments, but he finally recognizes the outfit. She must be a nun from the church.

“Let me help you,” she murmurs, gently lifting the still-snoozing Eleven from Erik’s shoulders and carrying him herself. “This is a dangerous time for you to be out and about. Come with me.”

She leads Erik up the hill, along the easiest path. She’s a lot stronger than she looks, he has to admit, but then again, living on a monster-infested hill surely requires the ability to fight them, right? He sends another thank-you to Yggdrasil, since he’s pretty sure She led her to him.

When they finally make it to the church, Eleven deposited gently into one of the spare beds, Erik almost immediately passes out in the other.

\---

He awakens again to the sun casting its rays through the windows, but the first thing he sees is a now-familiar pair of blue eyes.

Erik jolts, sitting upright as he watches Eleven shake with silent laughter. “_Gave you a fright, huh?_”

“Good to see you awake,” Erik replies. “I was worried about you, you know.”

_“Oh, me? I’ve always been a heavy sleeper, as long as I don’t have places to be.” _He sticks his tongue out at Erik.

Erik’s pretty sure breaking out of jail means he has places to be, but he won’t press the issue, which is fine, because Eleven presses it anyway.

_“Though now that I think of it, we do have places to be, don’t we?” _Eleven’s expression shifts, and he seems serious for just about the first time since Erik’s met him. (All of one day ago.) _“I gotta check on my stash, and didn’t those soldiers say something about that village of yours?_”

Shit, Erik had almost entirely forgotten about that. Curse the intrusive Gay Idiot brain.

He springs to his feet and bolts for the door, nearly crashing into Eleven as the latter blocks his path. _“Oh no you don’t! Our host told me that the guards are still looking for—" _Erik can’t figure out this word, but he can make out the sign for _dark_ fading into _child, _so he’s pretty sure it’s _darkspawn._ “_And surely the first place they’ll check is your hometown, right?”_

He can’t fault that logic, frankly.

_“But we can’t stay here. As nice as she is, she’s bought into the Heliodor propaganda, and she’s bound to figure you out sooner or later…_” Eleven cups his chin in his hand thoughtfully, and an instant later, his posture shifts; his shoulders stiffen for an instant before he starts bouncing on his feet. _“I got it! Why don’t you come with me downtown? I’ve got something to find there anyhow, and we can stay there until we’re sure they’re off our trail!”_

He sure seems eager to stick around, Erik notes. But, then again, it’s not really like he himself wants to be alone, either. And the magic sure was useful, not to mention what else he might be storing up his sleeves…

“Well, I _suppose_ I could tolerate you a little longer,” he teases.

Eleven _beams_ in response; every part of him seems brighter all of a sudden and he _grabs Erik’s hand_ and Erik might combust on the spot. If Serena was here, he’s sure, she’d be holding back a giggle fit at his impending gay crisis.

(But no, Dunstan insisted on keeping her in Cobblestone, no matter how much she begged to go with him. Monsters and all, and after she’d lost her parents, he couldn’t bear to lose her, too. And depending on what exactly the knights had planned for their “investigation” …it wasn’t worth thinking about, not when it wasn’t safe to go back there for now.)

He shakes off the Sad Thoughts, just as he had the first night after he left Cobblestone. There will be time to dwell on the consequences of this whole Luminary, or Darkspawn, or whatever, thing later. For now, though…

“Lead on, fearless leader,” he jokes. He takes one step forward, but Eleven stops him, dropping Erik’s hand (to the latter’s great disappointment).

_“Yeah, definitely, just waltz into the city where you broke out of jail, huh?” _He shakes his head. _“You need something to cover your head…and some gloves, or something, good Goddess.”_ He rustles through his bag, pulling out a bundle of dark fabric. Eleven unfurls it and, drawing out his dagger, cuts a piece off the bottom. He sears the cut edge with a gentle flick of fire magic before handing the original bundle to Erik.

_“A hood to hide your face,” _Eleven signs, the remaining strip of fabric swinging gently in time with his motions. He then takes Erik’s hand again, wrapping the fabric around it over the Mark. _“And that to hide your hand! Just say you got hurt fighting off some guard or something. I can find you some actual gloves later, cause I’m guessing you don’t want these sweaty old things."_

Erik examines the bundle he was given; it’s a hood, he guesses, almost like Eleven’s, except that Eleven’s is actually attached to his shirt. He pulls it on over his head, letting the extra fabric settle on his shoulders. “Alright, disguises on, I think we’re ready to go, then.”

_“You’ve got it, partner!_” Eleven replies, pulling up his own hood and racing ahead into the monster-infested grasslands. Erik laughs, trailing behind him, greatsword at the ready for whatever threats might come their way. And for a moment, all his worries about what is to come simply float off in the breeze.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik contemplates overthrowing the monarchy, potshots are taken at both Heliodor _and_ Derk at every possible opportunity, Erik finally learns how to lightning, and our hero continues to be a gay idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first off, thank y'all SO much for the lovely lovely comments!!! I'm not really used to throwing my typing words into the void known as AO3 so seeing all the nice words was OVERWHELMING, wow.
> 
> This chapter took a biiiiit longer than I anticipated! Things have been a smidge hectic at casa del la Chel, but I'm still counting it as a personal victory that this chapter's out before November's up! I never really intended this as a "proper" NaNoWriMo, since I know myself all too well, but this is honestly better than I really expected.
> 
> Writing accents for this is an Experience because I'm a clueless American, but I think Derk's came out decent? At the very least it seems in line with how he sounds in-game.
> 
> I've written a LOT for next chapter on account of the discord's shiny new sprint bot usually being active while I'm on mobile - actually I think it's just about DONE, just gotta fry some birds and figure out some minor swapping aspects - so hopefully there'll be less downtime between chaps 2 and 3? No promises, though, unfortunately.
> 
> (No I will Not apologize for that admission that happens in the campsite, I've had the idea _since I came up with the roleswap_ and my brain would not be satisfied until I was in writing. I hate that I wrote it and especially that I thought of it in the first place but I refuse to even pretend to apologize.)

Erik had been amazed when he first entered Heliodor. The city was practically gleaming, just like the gemstone it had been named for; as nice as Cobblestone was, it didn’t compare to how _pretty_ Heliodor was. Sure, maybe the plaza in front of the castle was ridiculous, all huge houses owned by a bunch of uppity jerks, but the more modest parts of the city...Erik could have wandered there all day if he hadn’t been racing to get to the castle before nightfall.

He’s far less amazed looking downtown. This place makes Cobblestone look _pristine_.

_“Well, this is home!”_ Eleven gestures to the rundown buildings surrounding them. _“Er, it was, anyway. I’m probably gonna need to steer clear now, huh...”_ He shakes his head. _“But we can’t worry about that now! I have an orb to find...”_ He races further into town, leaving Erik in his (literal) dust.

Erik tries to avoid looking anyone in the eye, which isn’t difficult given the hood. All he can really do is follow Eleven further and further, past more hungry people and crumbling houses.

If he didn’t already begrudge Carnelian for the jail thing, this would be the straw that prompts him to join the nearest revolution.

He finally catches up to Eleven towards the center of the district. The thief tosses trash everywhere, including the area around and on top of Erik. Is he...growling?

Eleven eventually throws up his hands, scattering even more trash to the winds. He looks _pissed_, brows furrowed and teeth gritted, a far cry from the usual grin he’s worn throughout the two days Erik has known him. And he keeps...tapping his nose?

“Hey, I know the place reeks, but—"

Eleven stops mid-sign, index finger gently falling from his nose as his eyes rake over the mess now surrounding him._ “Oops.” _He kicks some of the scattered trash back into the pile, perhaps a bit more aggressively than necessary. Erik joins him, brushing trash from his head and gently kicking it to the pile.

_“Nose—“_ He stops, as though he suddenly realizes why Erik was confused, and opts for fingerspelling instead. _“D-E-R-K was my partner! In crime, I mean! Like, he helped me steal the Orb.”_

Right, they’d covered that on the way downtown. Sure explained why he’d been down there, Erik supposes.

_“We stashed it here before the guards took me in! But now it’s...not here.”_ He sighs. _“He probably sold it. And after all the effort I went to...had to sweet-talk so many guards...I hate to ask, but would you mind making another detour?”_

Even if he’d left it at that, Erik would say yes in a heartbeat. But then Eleven breaks out the puppy-dog eyes, looking uncannily like Sandy did whenever she did something bad and _knew it,_ and Erik 100% understands how he and Derk got out of the castle (the _castle_!) with the kingdom’s greatest treasure. It’s impossible to say no to a face like that.

“Well, I’m sure another stop can’t hurt,” he replies, kicking one last piece of trash into the pile. “Where are we headed, partner?”

Eleven doesn’t respond, not at first; there’s a moment, just a few seconds, where he just looks at Erik, and the fading sunlight almost dyes his skin red. But his hands start moving and as Erik’s gaze shifts to follow his words, whatever that moment was fades away.

\---

The pseudo-tightropes connecting the city roofs are, admittedly, not Erik’s strong suit.

Eleven crosses them with a level of grace Erik only dreams of achieving. Maybe it’s just the greatsword weighing him down, or maybe the dim lights guiding his way just aren’t enough, but Erik almost tumbles into the streets below on more than one occasion; Eleven, on the other hand, bounds across them with almost cat-like ease. It’s a thief thing, he’s sure, though the lighter weapons are almost certainly helping.

The plaza here looks even more absurd now that he’s seen the slums. Erik wouldn’t call himself _naive_, really, but Granddad Jasper’s stories of grand adventures across Erdrea had never even touched on anything like this. He had made it all sound so...not quite _perfect_, but good, at least.

He’s roused from his thoughts by a gentle tap on his shoulder. “_Okay, I think this is the house...”_ Eleven signs. He reaches into his knapsack, digging around for a few moments before pulling out a piece of…chalk?

He draws a lovely little picture on the door; it looks like the little spell-circle for Frizz, with a cat face in the center. A calling card, of sorts? Eleven drops the chalk back into his bag, letting the dust poof out before closing it once more.

_“I don’t think he’s in at the moment, since the lights are off and all,”_ he begins, hands still coated in chalk dust. _“So I figured I’d leave a little surprise for him. He’ll know what it means.”_

He grabs Erik’s hand and yanks him into the bushes next to the house. _“And now we wait.”_

For a few minutes, Erik’s positive they’ll be discovered as the lights from nearby houses spill out of the windows. But Eleven still seems confident, and his faith is more than a bit contagious. (Plus, even if they do get caught, the Heliodorians are stupid enough that the two of them could easily escape again. Especially considering they bought into that Darkspawn thing.)

Eleven taps him frantically on the arm, grabbing his attention as a figure stops by the door. In the lamp-light Erik can almost get a good look at the stranger’s face; he looks, quite frankly, terrified.

Well, looks like that Ruby woman had the right place indeed.

The stranger, who’s most definitely Derk, sighs audibly, entering the house but leaving the door conveniently open. In a flash, Eleven emerges from the bushes, motioning for Erik to follow, and disappears into the house.

The house itself, of course, is ridiculous, with all kinds of fancy-shmancy antiques lining the shelves, but Ruby did say it was a shop, right? Probably caters to all the rich folks. Eleven doesn’t seem to pay it any mind, though, practically blowing past the shelves to talk to his former partner. (Truth be told, even if he didn’t know who owned the shop, Erik would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is Derk, because the reason for his Eleven-given name sign is as plain as…well, the nose on his face.)

Erik can’t actually see Eleven’s face, nor can he really make out the frantic signing, but he can tell that Derk is getting quite an earful. So to speak.

“No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!” Derk practically screams. “I turned in the Orb for money to buy the shop, an’ I’ve been usin’ the profits to bribe the guards! I was protectin’ you!”

Erik doesn’t know the whole story, that much is certain. But it sure would explain why the guards were…well, what they are. Plus, the guard between downtown and High Society certainly took bribes, if what he saw from the guard’s tower was correct. (That still leaves the question of why they still didn’t care when _Erik_ was thrown down there, “Darkspawn” and all, but at this point Erik really isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.)

Goddess above, Heliodor is a mess all-around. Erik sincerely considers putting the Cobblestone visit on hold and starting a rebellion, Luminary shit be damned.

Eleven, for his part, sighs, a long, audible gust of wind. “_I believe you,_” he signs, shoulders slowly drooping. “_I guess, anyway. But now I’m back to square one…_”

“Don’t worry yer little ‘ead about that one! I ‘eard they’ve been keepin’ it in the Kingsbarrow! Somefin’ about guardin’ it from any more tea leafs…”

Eleven shoots up straight. _“Derk, I could-_“ He shoves the words away, starting again. _“Thank you so much, I really mean it.” _He frowns, seemingly thinking _very_ hard about something, before his hands start moving again. _“Why don’t you come with us? We could always use another set of quick reflexes. You know, like old times?_”

Derk doesn’t seem to put much thought into it before shaking his head solemnly. “Ah, I might’ve considered it, but…I’m a married man, now, and I can’t just up an’ leave my blushin’ bride. Didn’t Ruby tell you?”

She had not, in fact, told them.

“An’ she’s never been the type to get ‘er ‘ands dirty, no, so I can’t just bring ‘er along with. I promised ‘er I’d give ‘er a nice life, y’know?”

Eleven looks genuinely heartbroken, if only for an instant. _“I…I’m really happy for you. Both of you. And I hope you both have that safe life you’ve been hoping for.” _He practically bee-lines for the door, only motioning for Erik to follow when he’s halfway into the plaza. Erik says nothing, simply following behind, back towards the shadows downtown.

\---

Once they’re back outside of the city, safely cloaked in darkness away from any prying soldiers’ eyes, Eleven seems to perk up a bit. _“Alright. We have to pass through the Manglegrove to get to the Kingsbarrow, and from what you told me, we’d have to get through there to get to Cobblestone anyway, right? Sweet, two birds with one stone. One cobblestone.” _He bursts into a fit of silent giggles.

_Derk’s loss,_ Erik thinks.

They charge on through the night, finding their way deep into the heart of the Manglegrove. The monsters are getting stronger, and there’s only so much Erik or Eleven can do before the toll of their healing magic seeps into their bones.

“It looks like there’s a campsite here. We should settle down for the night.” Erik yawns dramatically, watching as Eleven lights the campfire.

As the flickering flames illuminate the camp, Eleven pulls out a…something. It’s not ideal light for conversing via sign language, but there’s enough for Erik to make do. “_A fun-size forge!” _he signs, grin wide and eyes gleaming. _“Derk and I would use it, but he never quite got the knack for it, and I’m…well, I mostly use magic for a reason. Not exactly the buffest of the bunch._”

He sighs, letting out a puff of air strong enough to make the flames blow away from him. _“Man, Derk giving up the thief life isn’t really a surprise to me, but getting _married_…_”

“Not the marrying type, you thought?”

Eleven’s hands are shaking, just the tiniest bit. The cold, maybe? Or something else weighing down on him? _“Yeah, I guess. It’s…complicated. I’m still not totally convinced he didn’t sell me out in the first place, I mean, it’s awfully convenient that he was still around to find the Orb…but why would he do that if he was bribing the guards for my sake?”_

“Guilt, maybe?”

_“I guess, maybe.” _He sighs. _“All this disappointment shit’s on me, anyway, I guess. Me and my bleeding heart, falling for anyone who’s the littlest bit nice to me._”

Erik’s brain short-circuits. He probably looks stupid as hell, stock-still and mouth agape. But what can he do, really? He’s a sucker for pretty boys, especially pretty boys who _definitely swing his way_ and-

_“Oh, goddess, you don’t have to worry about _that_.” _Eleven’s hands are shaking, still. “_You’re nice and all, but I’ve learned my lesson. Nothing but some totally-platonic adventuring from here on out!”_

Well, so much for _that_. Totally-platonic adventuring, huh…Serena sure would get a kick out of this, huh?

“Yep! We’ll be straighter-than-straight. Just like Derk, I guess.”

Eleven nearly collapses into a fit of silent giggles. _“Straighter than straight! That’s a great way to describe him. Between the marriage and leaving behind his life of crime…wait, I’m not supposed to explain the joke, am I?”_

Phew. Tension defused, he thinks as laughter bubbles out of his throat as well. Erik can probably handle pretending _not_ to be attracted to his partner in (literal) crime until this adventure is over, or at least until he finally forces himself to get over it. (An overly romantic voice in his head, sounding an awful lot like Serena, waxes poetic about how ~true love~ can’t be forced away, but he pushes that aside. Like a lot of Serena’s overly-romantic musings, to be honest.)

Eleven yawns, and as much as Erik’s earlier yawn was intentionally ridiculous, Eleven’s is _so _over-the-top that it hurts. _“I’d love to keep shitting on Derk, but I’m dead tired. Maybe we should hit the hay for the night?”_

Erik nods. “Sounds good.” He curls up on his side, trying to will away the cavalcade of anxieties that have graced every night since he left Cobblestone. (Is the village okay? Did the knights hurt Mum or Serena? Is the one ally he has gonna flip his lid when he realizes the Luminary is a gay idiot with an ill-advised crush on him?)

It feels like he’s only just managed to drift off to sleep before he wakes less-than-peacefully. The sun is just barely peeking through the overgrown forest, but _something_ sure seems intent on waking him up.

“Sandy…?” he mumbles, sleep still hazing over his rational thought before he realizes exactly where he is. The barking likely isn’t Sandy, unless she somehow found her way here. But Sandy’s not exactly an idiot, and she always stays close to home; the furthest she’d ever traveled was as Serena’s bodyguard during their trip up the Tor.

As Erik regains proper usage of his brain cells, he looks around the campsite; no Sandy, just Eleven (looking rather grumpy, hair still annoyingly perfect even after a night’s sleep in the _goddamn woods_) and an entirely different dog.

The dog charges deeper into the woods. Erik glances at Eleven, who simply shrugs. “_Guess that little guy has places to go. Maybe he knows the way out of this place? I checked, and the bridge towards Cobblestone is busted.”_

The pair follows, watching as the sun practically disappears behind thicker branches and taller trees. Every warning Erik has ever heard about the Manglegrove pushes itself into the forefront of his brain. Man-eating monsters and tricky spirits who will lead you into a maze you can never escape from…the rational part of his brain assumes that they’re old wives’ tales, designed to keep curious kids from wandering too far from their parents (and maybe Granddad Jasper got a bit of a kick out of scaring Erik and Serena), but he can’t be too careful, especially if monsters are a bit laser-focused on him with the whole Luminary deal.

They reach a dead end. The dog sits by a curiously glowing root, letting out a high-pitched whine. Something about the root is strange, almost like it’s calling to him, in a way...basically, it’s practically brandishing a “touch me, I don’t bite (but I will kill you anyway)” sign at him.

“You can set this thing on fire if it tries to kill me, right?” Erik asks.

Eleven’s shoulders shake with laughter. “_I’ll try my best!”_ Very reassuring.

Erik reaches out, his fingers just barely brushing the plant…and suddenly his mind is filled with a _whoosh_ of images and words, something like memories, that aren’t even remotely his own…

He’s jolted back into reality, and the only reaction he can really muster is simply yelling _“What the fuck was that?!”_

The glowing stops, the root seeming to have served its purpose. Erik takes a few shuddering breaths, letting himself process whatever the _fuck_ he just saw. Some kind of monster, and the woodcutter (Erik presumes he’s a woodcutter, anyway, judging by the silly wood-related song) who lives in the forest being transformed into a dog…

“Alright, I’m gonna guess we’re not getting across this bridge without helping you out, huh?” He grumbles. The dog lets out a cheery-sounding _boof_. “Awesome. At least it showed me where I can find that little bugger.” He charges towards the broken-down bridge, leaving Eleven dashing after him.

The following battle isn’t exactly _difficult, _more exhausting than anything; their foe sure has earned the name _tricky_ devil. He and Eleven may have broken the world record for most phials downed in a ten-minute period. Erik can feel his bones tingling after every lightning blast the tricky devil sends at him (he really thought the whole “I can summon lightning sometimes” thing would have made that less of an ordeal, even if he can’t actually control it), and Eleven’s swaying on his feet even after the healing spells or occasional medicinal herb have kicked in.

_Focus,_ he thinks. There’s gotta be something he can do, some kind of Luminary power he can use to put an end to this battle…

He feels that stupid tingling in his arms again. Probably some fun nerve damage from all these attacks. Awesome. And the tingling continues, growing stronger and stronger until lo and behold, a _crack!_ of thunder ripples through the forest and a bolt of lightning crashes straight into the tricky devil. He watches in awe as it dissolves into dust pretty much on the spot.

What a way to figure out the whole lightning thing, huh?

Eleven runs up to him, panting still from the exasperation of a long, long battle. _“Whoa, did you do that? I know you said you electrocuted a bird by accident, but _watching it_ was something else entirely! Did you mean to do that?_”

“Kinda?” Erik replies. “I just wanted to get the fight over with, honestly.” But even so, he’s pretty sure he knows how to summon it at will now, or at least that he can get a stronger grasp on it from here on out.

_“I know that Seer guy said the Luminary would be special, but this is more than I expected…you’re pretty kickass, you know?”_

Oh no. Pushing aside this whole ill-advised crush deal is definitely gonna be an issue if Eleven keeps complimenting him like this. Fixate on _literally anything else,_ Erik… “Wait, what’s this about a Seer?”

_“I’ll explain once we’re out of here,” _Eleven signs. _“Anyway, shouldn’t we go to see that woodcutter? He should be back to normal; if that monster caused the curse, like you said, its death should have un-cursed him.” _He grins. _“Lead on!”_

Erik tries desperately to stop the fluttering in his chest as the pair of them make their way back through the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN EDIT FROM THE FUTURE BECAUSE I FORGOT: the calling card thing was actually a concept that tumblr's wrathful-sins/couvina suggested! Please show him love, his art is magnificent.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik forgets how Yggdrasil works, Granddad Jasper sure exists, Eleven gets increasingly cryptic, they STILL don't stop holding hands, some weirder aspects of the swap appear, birds are cooked, and Erik FINALLY figures out what that one general's name is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in a bit over a month!! Very exciting. A HUGE HUGE HUGE thank you to all the SoS discord folks for the kind words, the various sprints, and the occasional art!!!
> 
> Originally the Erik and El Heist Comedy was supposed to be two chapters but then it all kept GOING, which ironically is how this chapter was. Every time I was like "it's almost over" I remembered something else. My lord.
> 
> UH OKAY so Eleven kept dropping vague hints, that boy can't lie for shit, so uhhhhh if you're not into act 2 and/or don't know what Erik's whole Deal is, you're probs safe but just be careful. There are some Allusions. No I'm not sorry. There are also a few hints at A Very Special Tweak, and I am VERY excited to delve into that nonsense. But alas, that's several chapters down the line.

Well, _this_ isn’t the homecoming Erik had anticipated.

Of course, he knew it was never going to be sunshine and roses, not with Heliodor hot on his tail, but getting kicked out of his house because Mum is pretending he doesn’t exist? _Ouch_.

He can’t even blame her, or the rest of the town. If he was in her shoes, in anyone’s shoes here, really, he can’t exactly say he _wouldn’t_ write a kid out of existence. But even so, as he walks the streets of a home that’s no longer his, it still stings.

“‘Scuse me!” Something tugs at his jacket. He glances down...at a _very_ familiar head of blonde hair. “We were s’posta have a picnic, but our blanket blew away! Can you maybe grab it for me?”

This doesn’t make sense, how is he looking at a tinier Serena?! Has he somehow gone back in time? Well, that’s an issue to address later, he supposes, as he easily snatches the blanket from the tree’s branches.

Has the root here always been glowing?

“Thanks, mister!” She grins, showing off one missing tooth (Erik remembers it fondly, a mock sword fight gone a bit too real in the bodily-harm category) as she takes the blanket. “What’s your name?”

“...Erik,” he replies.

“Erik? That can’ be right...” She frowns, clearly mulling something over in her head. “Ah! You’re _lookin’_ for ‘im, aren’tcha? ‘E should be lookin for someone to ‘elp us...follow me!”

She races ahead of him, giggling all the while with Sandy (who’s still a _baby_, goddess above something is strange here) trailing close behind. The three of them follow the winding path through town to a very, very familiar spot indeed.

“Granddaaaaad, you ‘afta ‘elp us! Our blanket got stuck in a tree, an’—" The boy on the docks turns, and wow does it sure look like Erik’s traveled back in time, because no one he’s ever met has _ever_ had the same spiky blue hair.

Yep, that sure is himself he’s looking at.

The figure behind this tinier Erik, from before he decided to emulate a Heliodor accent to seem more like a “proper” Luminary, lets out a quiet _hmph_ and Erik staggers backwards. He recognizes the thin ponytail and the resting grump face. And he suddenly remembers the picnic, and the weird stranger who rescued their blanket and talked to his granddad.

Oh, of _course_ the root is glowing. He’s in a memory, isn’t he?

“Erik, Serena, go set up your picnic. I’ll join you two later; I have business with our guest, here.”

The kids nod and dash off, giggling as they race Sandy back to the infamous blanket-stealing tree and leaving Erik alone with Granddad Jasper.

“...did you not expect your own grandfather to recognize you? This is far from the strangest thing I’ve seen; I _was_ an adventurer, remember?”

Yeah, maybe that was silly.

Another _hmph_ from Jasper. “From the look on your face, I’m guessing your experience was...less than pleasant.”

Erik laughs. “Would you call getting tossed in the clink ‘pleasant?’ So much for Heliodor being helpful.”

Jasper frowns. “I suppose a nearly twenty-year-old letter would have its...inaccuracies. Still, I regret my part in that...perhaps I could make it up to you with a gift?”

He taps his chin thoughtfully. “The three-sided rock, by the falls. Check there, when you return to your own time.”

“T-thank you, Granddad,” Erik murmurs, letting out a _highly_ undignified squeak when Jasper hugs him.

And then the world around him spins and fades into nothingness, and he finds himself next to Eleven once more...but the thief has his gaze fixed to the town.

Or rather, what _was_ the town.

\---

A hand on his shoulder snaps Erik out of his thoughts. Eleven has this look in his eyes that Erik can’t quite place; he removes his hand so he can speak, and Erik can’t help but feel a twinge of loneliness as the warmth of his touch lingers.

_“Tell me about them. Keeping their memory alive helps...”_ Eleven tenses for just an instant. _“Uh, well, that’s what I’ve heard, anyway! Something about not keeping it bottled up. Or something.”_

(Even in his grief-stricken state, Erik still wants to delve into his mind and figure out all the secrets Eleven has stashed away up there.)

“Well,” he begins, “I guess I could start with Mum? She wasn’t my birth mum, I’ve always known that, but...she never made me feel different, y’know?”

Eleven sits with his chin resting on one hand, occasionally nodding as Erik speaks. There’s a strange look in his eye, almost wistful, if Erik were to be poetic about it.

“And my granddad, Jasper...well, he kicked it a year ago, but he’s the one who brought me home to Mum. It was just him and her, and me of course. Granddad wasn’t always the warmest, but he did teach me to use a greatsword, and he made it clear in his own way that he cared.

“And Serena...my best friend. She called us ‘birthday twins’ because Granddad gave me her birthday. Convenient, I guess.”

Eleven’s eyes light up; if Erik didn’t know any better, he’d say it’s born of a kind of kinship. But that’s silly. Why wouldn’t Eleven know his own birthday?

“Her granddad always thought we’d get hitched, but that always felt like, I dunno, marrying my sister. Hell, with how much time we spent together, she practically _is_ my sister...well. Was. You two would’ve gotten along way too well.”

Eleven nods. _“They sound like good people...they didn’t deserve this.”_

“Got that right,” Erik grumbles. “It’s one thing to throw me in prison. Heliodor might be _stupid_ for buying into that crap, but I get that, at least. But them? For what, taking in an orphaned kid?”

Eleven’s gaze seems to drift elsewhere, somewhere beyond the two of them. _“It says more about Heliodor than it does about your family. And speaking of them, don’t you have a something-or-other to find?”_

Right, right. “Yeah. Down by the falls.”

\---

Granddad Jasper had taken to fishing only after Amber had grown up, he’d told Erik once. It was just something to do to pass the time, or to save a bit of gold on dinner.

“Instead I came home with another mouth to feed,” he mock-grumbled every time Erik and Serena had bugged him to tell them the story again. They never got tired of hearing the story of baby Erik floating down the river, right into the arms of a grumpy ex-adventurer.

He’d play the part of being a grumpy old codger, but Erik could tell beyond a shadow of a doubt that his granddad really did love him. The Yggdrasil-granted vision certainly helped, but he hadn’t needed it. He knew full well that he was loved.

“Loved,” emphasis on the d, is the operative word here, unfortunately. 

“It should be around here somewhere,” Erik mutters, uprooting rocks and plants in his fervent search. “Ah-hah!” With a great deal of effort, and a small avalanche of dirt into the now-vacant hole, he yanks up a small box. Strangely ornate for little ol’ Cobblestone.

_“Well? Open it!”_ Eleven looks surprisingly eager to see what Jasper has left for him. Erik unlatches the box, delicately opening it (it _did_ spend ten years underground, after all).

A pair of letters rests inside the box, settled atop a faintly glowing stone that dyes the inside a pale blue. Erik pulls the letters out, taking care to keep them intact.

The first is written in a refined hand, stamped in the right-hand corner with a seal that Erik has only seen in Granddad Jasper’s old adventuring relics. His eyes scan the letter:

_My darling boy, I write this to you not terribly long after your birth. Tales of the destruction of Dundrasil say that the Luminary had been born there just days before its fall, and I fear that the same fate may befall us, and you as well. If this letter has found its way to your hand, the kingdom has surely fallen, and your father and I with it._

_You most certainly know who you are, now, more than just the Prince of Zwaardsrust; you are the Luminary, and perhaps the only one who can save this world from whatever dark forces are due to rise._

_Find your way to Heliodor, when you are strong enough to fight. Carnelian has always been a staunch believer in the Luminary, and he will most assuredly aid you on your quest._

_Remember, my darling Erik: whatever your destiny may be, remember above all else: you are my son, and you are always so loved._

As Erik finishes reading, Eleven snatches the paper out of his hand, eyes wide. He reads it at record speed before (far more gently) handing it back.

_“So you’re a prince, huh? I wonder if your mum left anything valuable in there...”_ His eyes light up. _“Like a…no, definitely not a necklace, but maybe a—"_

Erik casts a stern glance at him.

_“Kidding, kidding! Old habits die hard. Plus, why would I steal from you, anyway? I have standards, you know.”_

Erik neatly rests his mother’s letter back in the box, unfolding the next. He’d recognize the handwriting even in his sleep; it’s Granddad Jasper’s, all steady handed but stilted.

He pores over the contents, trying to hold back his tears.

_“What’s it say?”_ Eleven asks, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“He—” Erik rubs his eyes, cringing internally at the dampness pooling on his hand. “Well, for starters, that thing I told you about, with the root and the talking to Granddad? Apparently that happened, for real. Somehow.”

Eleven tilts his head. _“Yggie works in weird ways, I guess.”_

“Checks out, I suppose. Anyway, he said to take the treasure in this box with me. Said it would help out, probably.”

Upon closer examination, the stone is familiar indeed; it never glowed when Erik had seen it before, sitting on a shelf at home collecting dust with the other relics from Granddad Jasper’s adventuring days. But here it was. Now if only Erik could remember what it actually does.

_“We should get a move on,”_ Eleven says. _“They’ll probably check back here again. Are you okay to get going?”_

Erik nods. “Lead on. To the Kingsbarrow, right?”

Eleven grins, grabbing Erik’s hand and dragging him through the forest.

\---

Erik had honestly hoped (beyond reason, considering that it was a knight’s training facility) that the Kingsbarrow would be a relatively quick detour. Just in, grab the orb, out, and find a way literally anywhere else.

He had also hoped that it would be filled with less death, but the heap of dead soldiers by the entrance clearly shot down _that_ notion. Shit.

“Can’t wait for them to find a way to pin _this_ on me,” he grumbles.

Eleven shrugs. _“Honestly, if anyone’s thrown under the cart it’ll probably be me, especially once they realize the orb is gone.”_

They delve deeper and deeper, past mobs of monsters and statues that seem to stare into their souls. Not too much for the pair to handle, of course, between Erik’s sword work and Eleven’s magic.

_“Okay, wait, I have an idea for our next battle,”_ Eleven tells him as they pointedly avoid the pile of dust caused by the last battle. _“Just do what you normally do, alright?”_

Erik hesitantly nods. “O…kay?” He has no reason to distrust Eleven, of course, but Granddad Jasper always warned him to keep his guard up. And if he really wanted to avoid jail again, Eleven could very easily shank him and claim he was avenging the knights.

But that was silly, even for all of Granddad’s warnings.

Eleven thrusts out an arm to hold him back as another egg-robot-thing (_another victim, _he thinks) comes to fight. _“Go time.”_

Erik tries not to overthink it as he charges at the robot and raises his sword, but his gaze lands on Eleven right as he releases a frizz spell aimed at...him?

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t overthinking?

Instead of setting him on fire, though, the spell engulfs his sword. Curious, Erik swings his very fiery sword at the unsuspecting robot, which tries to retreat. Emphasis on tries.

It turns out that even monster robots are susceptible to melting.

_“So. Cool, huh?”_ Eleven signs, a smug grin gracing his face as the robot _poofs_ into dust like the others.

“I…huh?! You could have killed me!”

_“Oh, ye of little faith. I knew exactly where I was aiming. Buuuut, if you’re worried about me setting you on fire, I think you can do it yourself, if that weird fire sigil we pulled off is any indication.”_

“Yeah, maybe that’s worth trying. No offense, but I think we should try not to burn my face.”

_“The rest of you is fair game, then?”_ Eleven quips, sticking his tongue out at Erik even as he marches deeper and deeper into the vault-turned-tomb

The monsters lurking in the bottommost confines of the Kingsbarrow don’t put up quite as much of a fight as Erik was expecting; sure, there’s the occasional hard-to-kill robot bird, but it’s not terribly difficult to outwit the rest of the enemies with a bit of practice (and more than a little fire). He won’t question small blessings, especially given the week he’s had, but it’s a tad concerning. Either it’s a trap, or the knights have _really_ been slacking on their training. (Drustan’s smelly asshole, Heliodor is a mess all around.)

_“I think the orb is just up ahead,”_ Eleven signs. _“Though with the ridiculously fancy doors, and how hard it is to get up there, anyone could’ve guessed that, right?”_

Sure enough, the doors guarding the innermost part of the Kingsbarrow are fancy indeed; that, coupled with the sheer absurdity of having to stuff himself (_and_ Eleven, even worse, confined spaces with cute boys is a _nightmare_) into an abandoned husk of one of the egg robots lurking down here to even _reach_ said fancy doors, means that Erik is more than a bit annoyed at Heliodor. (Though, of course, when _hasn’t_ he been mad at Heliodor in the past week?) Goddess above, he’ll be overjoyed when they finally get this stupid orb and _leave_.

They reach the doors, finally, and Erik practically shatters the egg-bot in his desperation to get _out_ of here. He slams the doors open and briefly contemplates having Eleven melt them for good measure before waving off the thought and marching in. Simple, simple, grab the orb and—

A pair of colorful, loudly-screeching birds are huddled inside the vault, and one has his grubby little feathers on the orb. “Now, this will make a lovely present for the Dark One, don’t you think? The two of us will get ourselves a _very_ nice job in the Sentinels…”

Of course. Of course this can’t be _simple,_ because Good Old Yggie is personally determined to make his adventures as difficult as humanly possible.

Erik sighs, a deep, rumbling, _angry_ huff of breath. “So, you intend on keeping that for yourselves? Or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?”

The leftmost bird—the one not holding an orb—squawks indignantly. “Why, _who_ do you think you are?! We fought our way through those _pathetic_ guards for this prize, and we certainly won’t return to our master empty-handed just because a pair of _humans_ want it for themselves!”

“He stole it first, technically,” Erik notes, gesturing at Eleven. (Eleven, for his part, sheepishly waves.)

It’s the right bird’s turn to object, it seems. “And yet it’s back here, hmm? Seems that you didn’t do a good enough job! And losing it to these fools, even?”

Erik catches a glimpse of Eleven’s face; for a minute, he looks like he’s about to cry, and Erik isn’t having any of that. _Alright, that’s enough of this circus act._ He brandishes his greatsword. “Better not underestimate us. We fought our way through here, too, and the monsters following you lot are far tougher than the guards, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. So if it’s a fight you want, a fight you’ll get!”

Erik and Eleven slip into their familiar Fighting Tough Stuff plan of attack; Erik sets up Rubblerouser, Eleven preps a Cobra Strike (two, in this case), and from there it fades into a medley of sword slices, fancy knifework, the occasional boomerang toss, and a whole lot of magic. The birds, for their part, aren’t slouches, and they pack more than a bit of a punch. Or a slash, in their case?

Regardless of the semantics, the newfound gash in his right arm is proof enough that the birds really do mean business. Erik casts a quick Heal spell, sighing in relief as the magic weaves his skin closed, and focuses his energy. Maybe, if he takes his lightning magic and channels it like so…

His sword bursts into flame. Erik can hear a faint gasp from (presumably) Eleven, but he chooses not to focus on that; instead, he rushes towards the most exhausted bird, swinging his blade down upon it.

Are monster birds cookable? Cause if they are, the pair of them will be eating good for _weeks_.

Erik’s target crashes to the floor, twitching once with a dramatic screech before evaporating into dust. Aw, no bird meat for dinner. A shame.

Pausing to catch his breath, he watches Eleven, who grips his knife tightly as a quick jab below the remaining bird’s ribcage finally ends the battle. It tries to speak, but it only manages a wheeze before it disappears, the Orb rolling out from the resulting dust cloud.

Eleven barely manages to sheath his knife before he nearly bowls Erik over in excitement. _“See? I told you you could do it!”_ He wraps Erik up in a tight hug; for a brief moment, Erik’s pretty sure that slash to the arm actually killed him, because this _can’t _be real, _fuck._ But a second later, Eleven drops his arms and takes a step back. _“Uh, sorry, I should have asked,”_ he signs, a sheepish grin gracing his face.

“No, it’s…” Words can’t seem to form in Erik’s mouth, so he chooses to pick the orb up to distract himself. “We got it, right? We probably shouldn’t stick around, or Sir Stick-Up-His-Ass is definitely gonna lock us up.”

Eleven nods, a strange sort of sadness behind his eyes. “Yeah, we should.”

\---

Erik fishes the stone out of his pocket as the two of them finally make their way out of the Kingsbarrow; it glows brighter than before and almost sears his hand.

“Maybe this means we’re gonna need it soon?” Erik wonders aloud as he stows it back in his pocket. “I mean, I don’t think there’s anywhere else to go without grabbing a boat, and…”

_“The bridge to Puerto Valor’s out, and when I talked to Flint he said it’d probably take a while to fix,” _Eleven finishes. _“Main priority was getting connection to the Kingsbarrow, I think._”

Makes sense, Erik figures. “Alright, then, let’s saddle up and see if we can out how to get this stone to work.” He whistles for Moonstone, who trots over with a gentle whinny, and sets himself atop her, only pausing when he realizes Eleven hasn’t moved.

“_I, uh, haven’t ridden a horse before._”

Well. That complicates things. But with the herd of horses now sans-owner (thanks, birds) idling nearby, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem, right? Just a quick lesson…

And another herd of horses approaches, and these ones have riders. _Shit._

The thing that had most surprised Erik when he’d first met the legendary knights of Heliodor was how they hadn’t matched up to what he’d expected from the whispers around town. Sure, Sir Robert had a sort of gravitas about him, even with his thick Drasilian accent, and it was no wonder that the King trusted him. But the other one—Dusty, right?—had a far softer voice than Erik could have anticipated out of anyone of his rank. He’d hoped that that meant that he was more of a pushover.

Oh, how wrong _that_ had been, Erik had found out as he was practically yanked down down down into the deepest depths of Heliodorian hell.

The general’s gaze is stone-cold, eyes as frigid-looking as ice. Erik can’t see any other soldiers’ eyes underneath their helms, but he imagines their faces look about the same; they’ve bought into the Darkspawn nonsense hardcore, if the whisperings downtown and what little conversation he had with Flint were to be believed.

“Sir Chalky!” a soldier calls, and Erik has to choke back a laugh. (What kind of mother names her poor son _Chalky?_) “What are your orders?”

Erik glances back at Eleven, whose face has gone as bleach-white as Erik’s old sheets (once his mum finally wrangled him into doing laundry, that is). “Grab my hand,” he whispers. “We gotta get out now.”

Sir Chalky’s face doesn’t react at all, at least as far as Erik can tell. Assuming he saw him speaking at all, of course. “Apprehend the Darkspawn. Do not kill him, not until he’s been questioned. As for the thief…well, do what you must.”

Eleven looks Erik square in the eye, practically shaking from fright, and nods, grasping his hand. Erik pulls him up atop Moonstone, stroking her mane with his free hand when she starts to whinny. “Easy, easy, you two,” he murmurs as both boy and horse settle down. “You think you can handle the two of us, Moonstone?”

She huffs gently, a sign Erik’s learned that she’s fine. With a gentle nudge, she takes off, charging through the horde of soldiers. Eleven still squeezes Erik’s right hand, and though Erik can’t spare a glance towards him, he’s sure that the (former?) thief’s eyes are screwed shut.

A crossbow bolt lands too, too close to Moonstone.

“Shit,” Erik mutters, Moonstone whinnying from fright. “El, can you use your magic to get them off their crossbows?”

Eleven’s hand jerks in Erik’s grasp, but he relinquishes his hold (and Sappy Erik makes an annoying return, proclaiming that Erik doesn’t ever want to let go). The telltale sound of Eleven’s newfound sizz spell rings in Erik’s ears for a moment as a line of fire singes the ground directly in front of the crossbow-wielding soldiers. Erik, for his part, channels his own lightning magic, which doesn’t hit the soldiers but certainly spooks them. Which, of course, is exactly what Erik wanted.

The stone in Erik’s pocket practically burns as they near the cliff (oh, how they always somehow return to cliffs), and he watches in awe as a portal of some sort opens up on the nearby tower. The soldiers, and Sir Chalky himself, seem dumbstruck as well; Erik nudges Moonstone again, and she bolts as fast as she can towards the gate.

“Men, pull yourselves together!” Sir Chalky shouts, and the army closes in, but Eleven grabs Erik’s hand again and none of that matters as they finally—_finally_—slip past them and through the portal. Everything goes topsy-turvy around them, but as Erik turns for one last glance at the mere chance of normalcy, the portal seals shut behind them, cutting off a final Heliodorian war cry. Moonstone slows to a halt, and Eleven glances around nervously for a moment. But it’s just a fleeting moment, and as he catches Erik’s eye, he grins, squeezing Erik’s hand, and Erik lets out a breath he barely knew he was holding on to.

Erik still has a lot of questions, about his destiny, about the whole Darkspawn nonsense, about the events that led him from a ruined kingdom into the arms (or, more likely, the fishing net) of Granddad Jasper. But for now, they’re safe. Questions can wait, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly waffling on the hometown swap but a) it makes sense, I promise (yes it means what you think it means, if you're far enough in to know what that means) and b) it leads to some VERY FUN moments later.
> 
> Next up, we finally get to meet the next two party members, and GOSH am I excited. I'm half-ish way through chapter 4 and I'm loving every second so far. If you've been following my notes on tumblr, you probably know who's next, and if not: well, that's one way to get you to come back to this, right?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik (unfortunately) learns how to haiku, Eleven almost stabs a missing person, tiny mage gets the magical-girl-style transformation she _deserves_, and the party _finally_ expands past our boys. One of my more oddball swaps gets introduced, and we finally find the other end of a swap I've been hinting at since chapter one!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS
> 
> Yeah, I know, it's been....like two months...life has been more than a bit hectic since literally the day I posted the swap (thank you SO MUCH sos discord for bein a supportive bunch through that), and between the valenslime, some one-shot ideas that I charged through somehow, and the final bits of that hecticness, I've...had this chapter mostly-done for a while, chapter _five_ is mostly done, and I even got some of chapter _six_, I just haven't had time to port them onto my laptop and finish/edit them, hehe. But things are leveling out again, I don't have to jet cross-country for QUITE some time, and so...well, I'm here :3
> 
> Which means that, as fun as the Erik-and-Eleven-Power-Hour has been, it's high time we introduce some more party members, huh? I've been really excited to show these two off; tiny!sylv has been a delight and while I'm still trying to get Gemma where I want her, I like to think I'm doin pretty okay with her so far :3
> 
> As always, thanks SO much to everyone who sprinted with me, and a thank you to NedrynWrites as well; as soon as I jokingly suggested this swap, they mentioned swapping Serena and Gemma, and that started me Seriously Thinking About It. (So in a way, Ned, this is your fault :3)

The world shifts back into color around them, and stupid crushes aside, Erik is incredibly glad he has Eleven’s hand to steady him. He feels like he’s about to lose his already too-small lunch.

He racks his brain to figure out where in all of Erdrea they might be, but his knowledge of Granddad Jasper’s adventures isn’t exactly helping him at the moment. Or maybe his brain just isn’t working right from their weird trip through the metaphorical rabbit hole?

Well, there isn’t much use for wasting his time on memories that aren’t coming back to him. Better off asking someone else where they might be...

Eleven seems to have the same idea, releasing his hand (to Erik’s eternal dismay) and rushing towards the first human-like figure he sees (thankfully a merchant; if they were immediately ambushed after getting here, Erik would have some _stern words_ for ol’ Yggie).

Erik is still a bit too far off to properly make out what they’re saying. He runs towards them, but by the time he reaches his partner-in-crime the merchant has only one thing left to say: _H-O-T-T-O. _

Hm. Hotto, Hotto...Erik can faintly recall the name. Hadn’t Granddad Jasper mentioned it was a tourist trap?

_“Awesome! Thank you, sir!”_ As the merchant leaves, Eleven shoots a blinding grin at Erik. _“There should be enough people here to throw any suspicion off of us, especially since the idiot knights have no chance of figuring out where we are.”_

“I’d say you’re the expert at avoiding suspicion, but I _did_ find you in max-security jail...”

Eleven frowns. _“Well, yeah, but—well, that’s complicated. And you were in jail too!”_ He huffs out a sigh. _“Anyway, let’s get into town before the sun goes down. I can’t see a goddess statue anywhere near here, and I don’t wanna think about what the nighttime monsters are like here.”_ He takes off towards the gates of the town (at least, Erik _hopes_ they’re the town gates), Erik trailing behind.

Hotto is quite a bit less populated than the two anticipated. It’s already a pretty small town, Erik observes, but for all of Granddad Jasper’s comments about overrated touristy places, he had really expected something, well, grander?

As they pass through the town gates, a man standing nearby jolts and clears his throat rather dramatically. “Welcome travelers! Here lies humble Hotto, where your stress melts away!”

Erik’s eyes find Eleven’s fingers, counting syllables before they trail off, just before he drops his head into his hands.

Fucking haiku.

“Oh, uh, thank you,” Erik replies. “We’re just passing through, but—"

“No, just passing through?!” The man practically bounds towards them. “How can you pass through without using our steam baths?!”

Was that another haiku? Is this just a thing here, shilling their town via haiku??? Goddess above, no wonder Granddad Jasper called it a tourist trap. This place is touristy as hell.

Eleven lifts his head just long enough to respond. _“It’s...it’s fine, we don’t have a lot of time to spend here, so—"_

The man cuts him off. “Not much time at all! Steam baths are just up the hill. Stop and soak a while!!”

How is he able to come up with these on the fly?

“Alright, fine, you win. We’ve been on the road a while, we’ll stop for a bit.”

Eleven starts counting on his fingers again. The realization of what he’s done hits Erik like a golem fist to the chest.

“You motherfucker.”

\---

Just past the bar, take a right at the top of the hill, the self-appointed town guide had told them (once they muscled out the answer from a 5-7-5 format). Erik isn’t a stranger to staying on his feet for hours, between chicken wrangling and Serena wrangling, but the amount of walking he’s done today should be criminal, he thinks. Eleven looks like he’s about to collapse, and they’ve barely made it to the bar.

“Maybe...we can sit down for a few minutes?” Erik asks, stopping for a moment to catch his breath. “Wait, can you even go in? Are you—"

Eleven signs _one, eight_ in response, then flashes a thumbs up. Apparently he no longer has the energy to really talk after their hike.

“This isn’t how I envisioned my first bar trip...” Erik begins, but loses his train of thought to the crushing weight of exhaustion. Goddess, he needs to sit down.

Erik flings the doors open, Eleven trailing closely behind. They flop down onto the stools at the counter, not even bothering to get the attention of the bartender.

Though, Erik notes, it seems the bartender is otherwise occupied. He taps Eleven’s shoulder, directing his partner’s attention to the other end of the counter.

“Oh, honey, don’t play dumb with me.”

Erik can’t even find the source of the voice. It’s not until Eleven’s silent giggles and frantic poking finally grace his attention that he looks closer to the floor.

The speaker, seemingly fuming, is...a little girl? That hat is almost as big as she is!

“You saw me the other day, with my darling little sister! We ordered drinks, remember? Surely you would remember seeing her!”

Huh, if the kids can get drinks too, maybe he shouldn’t have worried about asking Eleven’s age.

“Silence yourself, child. To suggest that I would dare serve children my drinks?!” Great, do they all speak in haiku?

“A child?! Why, I...”

Erik glances back at Eleven. “Maybe we should...leave.”

_“I suddenly have feeling in my legs again,”_ Eleven quips as he hops off the barstool.

Erik briefly catches the girl’s eye, and she pauses her near-screaming about her missing sister; he thinks he sees her eyes widen, thinks he sees her mouth forming the word “you!” But he ducks out of the bar anyway, and as the doors close, he can hear her chewing out the bartender once more.

\---

As much as Erik had complained about the haiku man at the entrance, he can’t really continue griping about him now. Visiting the steam baths was an _amazing_ idea. The steam is too thick for Eleven to speak with him unless the two stay _incredibly_ close, but Erik can’t emotionally handle having a cute boy, scandalously underclothed, sitting next to him; he chooses instead to sit across from his partner in blissful (possibly romantically-charged, if Erik’s hopes aren’t too high?) silence.

Well, it _was_ silent, before the wailing started.

“Fuck’s sake, is this place haunted?” Erik yells. The wailing only gets louder. “Ugh, let’s get dressed and get outta here.”

Even in the hallway, once they’ve properly covered themselves and Erik _very definitely doesn’t look, _they can still hear the ghost, or whatever it is. “Where are you...where did you go?”

Eleven follows the voice, edging uncomfortably close to the woman’s side—the clerk at the front desk rises from her chair, probably to hit him—before he returns, a crying girl in tow.

Erik now feels exceptionally self-conscious about yelling “fuck” in front of a little kid.

_"Wasn’t that girl at the bar looking for her little sister?”_ Eleven asks. _“Let’s take her back there. I can’t bear leaving a kid like her all alone...”_

(Didn’t that girl say she and her sister got drinks there? Do they let kids drink here?! Sure, the bartender denied it, but she seemed awful serious about it...)

The trio exits the baths, making their way down towards the bar. (It’s significantly less exhausting, now that it’s downhill, though Eleven opts to give the girl a piggyback ride to spare her tiny legs.) The girl from earlier sits in front of the bar, arms crossed over her chest. 

Erik lets their lost little tag-along down from Eleven’s shoulders, setting her firmly on the ground for the grand reunion. “I believe this kid was with you?”

The red-capped girl stares at the duo, glances at the (now dreadfully confused) child, then back at Erik. “Oh, blessed Yggdrasil, how could you pick someone so...” She sighs. “Misguided? Honey, did you even bother asking who she was looking for?”

Erik and Eleven share an uneasy look. _“I _knew_ we were forgetting something,”_ Eleven admits.

Red Hat sighs again, a far more dramatic affair. “If you heard enough to know I lost my sister, then surely you heard enough to know she was old enough to drink, right? Hotto might be a bit...strange, but they’re not idiots.”

Her next words are directed at the lost girl, far softer. “Now, what’s your name, sweetheart? And who are you looking for?”

“M-my name is Connie,” she sniffles, “and I’m looking for my dad. He...he went to the baths and he never came back...”

Red Hat sighs softly. “Oh, poor darling. But, if I’m right, I believe I know where he went.” She knocks on the door to the bar, gesturing to Connie as the bartender pokes his head out and scowls. “Could you be a dear and take care of this little one while I rescue her father? And my sister, if your tip is right...”

The bartender nods, waving Connie in without a word (thank the goddess, Erik can’t take another haiku right now). As the doors slam shut, Erik’s eyes catch Eleven’s hands moving. _“Uh, how are you so sure of where they are?”_

She giggles, though it sounds a bit more like a cackle. “Oh, honey, _please._ Did you think I was an ordinary child?” She snaps the fingers on her right hand, gesturing dramatically with her left, but only a puff of smoke shows off what she _intended_ to do.

Eleven imitates her, snapping his fingers and producing a small ball of flame.

“Alright, showoff,” she mutters. “Well, I _was _able to do that, but while I was at the baths some nasty monster stole me away and drained my magic...and my age, which is why I look so _adorable_ right now.”

Erik is inclined to doubt her, but he’s able to see memories via weird tree bits, so he really has no room to argue.

“They set up camp in the weird crypt past the mountain,” she continues, twisting a lock of black hair around her finger. “So Gemmy _probably_ went back there to track me down...”

Suddenly, she gasps. “Oh goddess, I forgot my manners! I’m Sylvia.” She curtsies. “But you can call me Sylv, if you like!”

“That’s Eleven,” Erik replies, gesturing towards him. “And I’m—"

“Oh, don’t worry, darling, I know perfectly well who you are, Erik.”

Erik’s blood runs cold, and he catches Eleven freeze mid-sign, _blue_ interrupted partway through. (Is that his name sign? Oh, that’s cute.) “Uh, then why would you ask for our help? Aren’t you going to turn us in?”

“Turn you in?” Sylv cocks her head to the side. “Turn you in to who, the Dark One? That goes against everything I stand for!”

Well, at least _someone_ has some sense.

“In fact, my knowledge that you’re _you know who_ is exactly why I asked! If anyone can help me out, it’s certainly you.” She grins, unfurling a collapsible staff (Erdwin’s boots where did she pull _that_ out of) and slamming it on the wooden floor. “So, shall we?”

\---

If Erik never sees another zombie for the rest of his life, it will be far too soon. The ones lurking in the crypt are nasty little guys, and the full-blown rigor mortis curses they spew are less than fun, to say the least. To say nothing of how they affect poor Eleven; Erik and Sylv can talk, at least, but Eleven might as well have had a silence spell cast on him.

“Isn’t there anything that can cure these?” Erik grumbles, shaking the stiffness out of his arms for the third time in ten minutes.

“There are,” Sylv begins, “but they’re really rare. It’s better to save them for a real emergency.”

_“And this doesn’t—"_ oh, there’s the curse kicking in, poor thing, _“this doesn’t count as an emergency? Your sister is missing!”_

Sylv grins. “She’s a lot tougher than you might expect. And you’d better not underestimate her, darling.”

“I mean, she’s a kid, how tough can she be?” Erik murmurs, but Sylv doesn’t seem to hear him as charges ahead, humming a jaunty little tune.

They travel deeper into the crypt, Erik and El taking care of the monsters between bouts of curse flare ups. Sylv, for her part, mainly cheers them on (her magic being gone, this is almost all she can do), occasionally chiming in with a suggestion for Eleven’s fire magic.

“Widen your stance!” she calls. Eleven heeds her advice, and the spell circle grows larger; the resulting flames burn brighter and (presumably) hotter than before. Erik can feel the crypt’s temperature rise a few degrees (and thank the goddess for that, it’s frigid in here) as the skeleton riders turn to dust, leaving their steeds behind.

“Uh.” Erik murmurs. “Can we...ride these things?” He hesitantly takes a seat on one and tugs on the reins; the bone horse follows his lead, clack clack clacking its little bone feet on the floor.

_“This is silly,”_ Eleven signs as he hops aboard. Sylv delicately takes a seat on the third, rocketing forward the moment her hands make contact with the reins. Eleven glances at Erik and shrugs, following Sylv.

As the trio reaches a grand, near-empty room, their boney steeds refuse to budge. No amount of rein-tugging convinces them to move.

“What’s _with_ these things?” Erik grumbles as his mount does a strange little hop-and-skitter instead of actually venturing into the room.

It’s not until Sylv points at the goddess statue in the center that Erik figures it out. “Just like the ones in the campsites,” she notes. “They may be friendly little darlings, but they’re still monsters, I suppose.” She gives hers a gentle pat, murmuring “there, there, little one.”

_“Wait, there’s someone there.” _Eleven cautiously dismounts his steed, creeping delicately into the room. Sure enough, there’s a blonde head leaned up against the statue, body surrounded by a light green spell sigil. (Heal, it looks like, to Erik’s eye.) _“Permission to stab, oh captain my captain?” _he signs.

Sylv gasps loudly enough to wake the dead—well, it would if the dead weren’t already ambling around this goddess-forsaken crypt. She stage-whispers “don’t you _dare_” as she hops down from her own bone-horse and races into the room, staff almost whacking Eleven in the face. She practically bowls over the blonde as she tackles her.

“There you are, Gemmy!” she yells, latching onto her sister as she (presumably) tries to squeeze the life out of her. “I was worried sick when I made it back to Hotto and couldn’t find you!”

The taller girl—“Gemmy,” Sylv calls her, but is that short for something?—giggles as she hugs Sylv back. “_You_ were worried?!” she asks as she gently places Sylv back on the ground. “You vanished without a trace! I’m the one who had to follow my gut to try to find you…” She glances towards Erik and Eleven, then back at Sylv. “I’m sure you know this, but you seem to have picked up—”

“The Luminary, yes, the one and only!” Sylv beams. “And Mum and Dad doubted us right up until we left, but look who was right all along!”

“They doubted me more than you,” she mumbles. “And I was more referring to the escaped convict along with him.” She dashes up to Erik, hands on her hips. “Though it seems both of you are convicts? Goodness, what in the world is with Heliodor?”

“Been asking myself that since I left,” Erik replies. “But if you know about that…”

_“Then Heliodor spread word pretty fast,” _Eleven finishes. “_Probably sent the other knight to warn the other nations. But there was no way out of the area without our little miracle stone, or whatever it’s called…”_ He shakes the thought away. _“Anyway, call me E-L-E-V-E-N. And I guess you already know Erik, kinda.”_

“I know of Prince Erik, yes!” (And boy, does that word choice make Erik cringe. He’s no prince, no matter what that letter says.) She curtsies, much like Sylv did back in town when she introduced herself. “I’m Gemma, Sylv’s twin sister. Though she’ll tell you she’s older!” She glances at Sylv once more. “How exactly _did _you get smaller than me, Sylv?”

Sylv waves her hands dismissively as she murmurs, “That’s a story for later, darling! For now, we have a family to reunite, yes? First things first, let’s help the others that monster captured!”

They sneak deeper into the crypt, Erik occasionally tapping into an (oddly convenient) Yggdrasil root and mooching off of communal memory for a password. It’s strange, though; Gemma keeps casting glances at Erik, some sort of unidentifiable emotion on her face. Every time he resurfaces from a memory and nearly collapses from vertigo, every time he snarks at an enemy or his zap magic doesn’t quite connect right, there’s that odd look.

He thinks back to the prince thing. Is that it? Is she being weird because he’s not very prince-like at all? Well, that’s her problem; whatever expectations she shoves on him is her business, and it’s no skin off his nose if she gets grumpy over it.

Sylv storms through the final door, slamming her staff on the ground and jolting Erik out of his thoughts. “Alright, you overgrown lizard, would you mind kindly giving my powers back? And my height as well?”

Before the dragon (is it a dragon? It’s bipedal and quite round) even responds, his shadowy lackeys surround her. Gemma rushes in, her own staff and some sort of miniaturized harp at the ready. The shadows around the twins flash eerie grins; the boys fought a few of them while trying to find Gemma in the first place, and they’re nothing to sneeze at.

Even as he and Eleven grab their weapons and meet her in the center, Erik teases, “Hey, Blondie, you gonna be alright in there? The shadows are tougher than they look!”

She gives him that same odd look, for just a moment, before it shifts into a confident grin. “Oh, Luminary, I am _more_ than capable of taking care of myself.” Quickly stowing her staff, she gently plucks at the strings of her mini-harp; Erik watches a spell sigil form around the shadows before a ferocious wind whips through them.

Well. Sylv _had_ told him not to underestimate her, he supposes.

The shadows are still standing (floating?) when she’s done with them, though their hovering seems shakier than before. She must have really ripped into them, Erik muses. Not to be outdone, he channels his magic, static coursing through his veins as he lets loose a zap. The shadows evaporate the moment the magic makes contact with them, and even the dragon himself seems shaken.

For the first time, as he catches her eye, Gemma seems genuinely impressed with him. She grins as she strums her harp once more; Eleven, at the same time, casts frizz at the dragon, and the two spells merge into a frenzy of fire and wind.

Erik would _like_ to simply look on in awe as it blazes, but there’s still a battle to fight. He can save his fascination for after this stupid dragon is gone. And with a quick slash of his blade, there it goes, melting into dust as it gripes (with no less than seven jar-related puns) about its terrible fate. All that’s left of it is the jar it carried.

Eleven excuses himself to free the prisoners (and, most likely, free the barkeeper from Connie’s wailing, poor thing) as Sylv and Gemma curiously approach said jar. “Well, let’s open this little thing up! I _am_ a tad tired of being bite-sized, you know,” Sylv quips, mere seconds before unceremoniously smashing the jar on the ground.

A huge gust of magic fills the room. Erik can hear the collective sigh of relief from all those who lost their magic, but his eyes are drawn to Sylv where she stands, in the metaphorical eye of the storm. She’s lifted into the air, magic swirling around her like a picture out of one of the storybooks Mum read to him and Serena. For just an instant, she glows red, and the room is filled with a piercing light…

And when Erik’s eyes work again, he sees Sylv, feet back on the ground, looking _just_ as small as she had before. She glances at herself, frowning (a strange look on her, to say the least) as she fusses with her sleeves and the hem of her dress, before beaming once more as she summons a small ball of fire above her pointer finger. “Well, maybe being small isn’t _too_ terrible. I’m sure I can put up with it until Mr. Luminary finds a way to get me back to normal!”

“And what exactly makes you think you’re coming with me?” Erik asks. Sure, the help would be nice, but Gemma doesn’t exactly seem all that happy to be traveling with two escaped convicts…and honestly, he’s getting used to traveling with just Eleven.

“We have a duty to the Luminary, you see,” Gemma begins. She holds her right arm out towards Sylv; for a few moments, no one moves, just watching, until Sylv clears her throat. “Oh, my apologies!” Instead, she kneels next to Sylv, the two clasping hands.

“We of Arboria swear to protect you! While we live, none shall defeat you!”

Erik feels a tug at his left sleeve; when he turns, he sees Eleven, clearly side-eyeing the twins. _“Sounds like some cult shit to me.”_

“That is to say,” Gemma continues, as if completely ignoring Eleven’s commentary (assuming she saw it at all), “it is our duty as Keepers of Arboria to keep you, Luminary, safe from harm. Just as our ancestor kept Drustan himself safe, all those years ago…”

Arboria…the name only vaguely rings a bell. Weren’t some of the soldiers way back in Heliodor prattling on about the religious whackjobs there?

“So! We’re destined to guide you on your path to Yggdrasil!” Sylv grins. “And I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having a few extra hands fighting off the monsters, right?”

Well, Erik would be lying if he says he _does_ mind…too much. And it’s not like he knows how to get to Yggdrasil in the first place, right? So, there’d be no harm in bringing them along…unless Eleven objects, of course.

Eleven shrugs. _“They may be kinda…well, out there, but if Sylv’s magic is anywhere near as good as her tutoring was, then she’ll be one hell of a help. And you saw Gemma’s wind magic, right? With those two on our side, we’ll be practically invincible!”_

“Well, I’m fine with it, as long as you two can keep up!” Erik calls, as if he calls the shots in this situation. (As if he wouldn’t have turned them down if Eleven had made even the slightest complaint.)

“Keep up, huh? Is that a challenge, Mr. Luminary?” Sylv charges past the boys, bopping Erik with her staff as she passes. “Hurry up, darlings! We have a father to return and some information to gather!"

Gemma follows her in turn; Eleven glances at Erik, shrugs once more, and takes off behind their new party members. Erik falls into step behind them.

Well, this isn’t quite what he thought fate had in store when he left Cobblestone; dubbed a fugitive, on the run with a mute criminal, a gremlin, and a seemingly-normal (if slightly cultish and weirdly judgmental) young woman, in search of goddess-knows-what…

But, he figures, as he watches Eleven and Sylv carry on like old friends, and as Gemma (somewhat-begrudgingly; well, he figures it’ll take her a bit of time) patches a well-worn hole in Eleven’s trousers, and as Eleven himself _still_ checks in on him every hour or so to make sure he’s okay, maybe this isn’t quite as bad as it could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So while I'm here; it's probably obvious on Sylv's part on account of, well, differing pronouns from the localization, but both she _and_ Gemma are trans girls here! I got Surprisingly Attached to trans!Gemma and now that's what you get :3
> 
> I didn't want to put a trans character _tag_ in yet, though, since it hasn't been explicitly stated in the work and pulling a JKR in that regard (you know, Oh This Character Is [marginalized group] But It's Not Actually Stated In The Source Material Give Me Brownie Points Anyway) ain't cool. (edit from the future: wow that JKR callout sure aged somehow.)
> 
> ANYWAY. Next chapter should have a finish-and-post period that _isn't_ two months, hehe! Guess who we meet next. Go on, guess.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Faris being left unchecked for an extra three years leads to some fun consequences, the circus' star clown owns a fursuit, a whole host of Fun Nicknames are implemented, and yet another face joins the party!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the quickest update to date, on account of most of this was written on my phone before chapter 4 was finished. This chapter stays pretty close to canon, honestly, and was probably a bit of a drag for that reason. I'm ultimately pretty happy with how it turned out but gosh was it a struggle. Maybe I just wanted to get to Gondolia. Actually that's probably exactly it.
> 
> Fun fact: due to Faris/Derk Shenanigans in the SoS discord, I _almost_ swapped Faris for Opal but I was already a couple thousand words deep and couldn't think of a good way to make Opal work. Truly tragic. At least we still have ralky-
> 
> Another fun fact: coming up with Banter Nicknames is incredibly fun.

The moment the Luminary and companions set foot in the Gallopolitan region, any complaints about their previous locations simply evaporate.

“I know we passed through here before,” Gemma pants, taking a dramatic swig from her canteen, “but this is far too warm for me. We grew up in the mountains! Sylv and I weren’t built for this!”

Eleven casts a sympathetic glance towards the twins as he neatly rolls up his sleeves. _“No matter where I’ve gone, I’ll never get used to this heat...”_

“So you’ve been here before?” Sylv asks, a wild grin gracing her face. As much as Erik himself may want to find his way past Eleven’s secretive nature, he notes with great amusement, at least he doesn’t make it obvious! Sylv, on the other hand, navigates the situation with the grace of one of the golems Granddad Jasper always told Erik about; she _can_ be subtle, if she so desires, but she’d rather just attempt to break down Eleven’s walls with brute force.

Contrary to Erik’s expectations, Eleven nods. _“I’ve been a lot of places! Only here a couple times, though; most of my travels have taken me elsewhere!”_

Sylv’s eyes narrow, and Erik has to stifle a laugh. Eleven 1, Sylv 0.

She shakes it off. “Well! This is no time to stand around chatting! We have a Rainbough to find!” She marches onward, ahead of the group. “A little heat is no match for us!”

“With the Luminary by our side, nothing can stop us,” Gemma replies, clearly sharing in her sister’s enthusiasm. Erik can think of a few things—a sudden burst in Heliodorian competence, the Mystery Thing he’s supposedly supposed to beat up, inconvenient amnesia—but chooses to bite his tongue instead. No need to ruin her good mood, after all.

\---

As the quartet finally enters Gallopolis, the surrounding hullabaloo almost blows them away. The city is bustling, not just from the usual city excitement—well, from what little Erik has gleaned of city life from Heliodor—but from something else that seems to be lighting the streets.

Gemma gasps loudly. “Oh, the circus! It was such a fun show, wasn’t it, Sylv?”

She nods. “We should make time to see it, darlings, if we can.”

Erik raises an eyebrow. “Weren’t you _just_ saying that we have to find that tree branch or whatever?”

“It’s not a _whatever_,” Gemma grumbles, “it’s—” she sighs. “Anyway, Yggdrasil has a way of making things work out. And besides!” She points at a poster adorning one of the walls. “Supposedly they have a special guest! ‘The Great Veronica’, it says...”

She frowns, glancing at the poster next to it. “A wanted poster for Eleven…and Erik too, it seems…”

The boys freeze, glancing awkwardly at each other before Eleven flips his hood over his head. _“Bad sign. Really bad sign.”_

Erik follows suit, flipping his own hood up. “Shit, did the Darkspawn stuff already make it here? Heliodor’s working harder than I thought…” He’d honestly thought that it would take longer for the whole prison break possible-ender-of-worlds stuff to hit Gallopolis, considering how…uh, _special_ the knights seem to be, but _clearly_ that had been the wrong option.

“Alright, darlings, settle down,” Sylv murmurs, gently bopping a panicking Eleven in the knee. “So long as you act like you belong here, the knights shouldn’t bat an eye!”

Eleven nods, taking a shaky breath and straightening himself out. Erik’s not quite as shaken (Heliodor isn’t the best at keeping up with him, he’s noticed), but takes a breath of his own. Sylv’s right, after all.

\---

The palace is open to the public, for reasons Erik can’t fathom (is the Sultan trusting? Or just otherwise stupid?). They step inside, Eleven immediately beelining to the cats who call the palace home. Erik supposes it makes sense; his calling card _does_ have a cat face, after all.

They have a mission to do, for sure, but looking at Eleven’s wide-eyed delight, Erik’s sure it can wait so they can treasure this moment.

Sylv (eyebrows raised at the pair, as if she knows something Erik doesn’t) and Gemma charge up to the throne room, leaving the boys behind. Erik joins Eleven on the palace floor, idly petting an orange cat who indelicately flops down next to him.

Just as Sylv and Gemma find their way back downstairs, after a few blissful (silent, because Erik couldn’t bear to destroy the peaceful atmosphere) minutes of cat time, Erik hears doors slam against the wall. A young man gleefully strolls towards the palace exit, straight past the party, before he doubles back.

“Ah, hello, travelers!” he practically bellows, fervently pulling Erik and Eleven to their feet and shaking their hands far too emphatically. “Welcome to Gallopolis!”

“Um, thank you,” Gemma answers, blushing lightly. (Goddess, Erik can’t fathom what she could possibly see in him.) “We’re simply here for the night to see the circus—"

He gasps, far too dramatically. “_Just_ the circus? A thousand pardons, my dear friends, but I cannot let you leave Gallopolis without seeing our glorious Sand National!” He laughs, a strange ‘ha-HA’ that surely can’t be a city fixture. Erik won’t believe that such a cruel place could exist.

“_The Sand National?”_ Eleven asks. “_The horse race?_”

“Exactly, my purple-clad friend! In fact...why not make a deal? I will personally pay for your circus tickets, and in return, you stay for the Sand National! And see yours truly finish in first place!”

Sylv hums. “So you’re some great jockey?”

He gasps again. “Why, you do not recognize the Prince of this fair land?”

Oh, this isn’t goodwill, is it? A trap, or a request for help at the very least.

Erik sighs; what choice does he have? “We’ll take you up on it, I suppose.”

As night falls upon Gallopolis, Prince Faris leads them into the circus tent, hooded face blending quite well with Erik’s and Eleven’s. They settle into a back corner, Faris’ back towards the rest of the audience. 

“So,” he says as the performance begins, showing minimal regard for the performers gracing the stage, “I have one teeeeny-tiny request.”

Erik groans. _Here it comes_.

“As I told you in the palace, the Sand National is tomorrow, and everyone is expecting me to wow them in the races, just as I have ever since my first race!”

Wow, this guy is not short on self-praise, Erik observes. He spares a quick look at the rest of his merry gang; Eleven is almost impossible to read under his hood, though he’s fussing with the edges of his sleeves. Gemma is still enthralled by Faris, for _whatever_ reason, but Sylv seems to ignore him in favor of actually watching the circus. Good for her.

“But,” Faris continues, frown alarmingly visible under his stupid hood, “the truth is...I have never once been on a horse. How can I keep the hearts of my people if they find out I cannot race?” He slams his hand on their table, grabbing the attention of the few attendees near them. “And that’s where you come in, my friend!” He grabs Erik’s hand. “You look like an expert rider, so what do you say? I will certainly make it worth your while...”

Gemma giggles. “Well, Prince Faris, we _are_ looking for a treasure that your father has, the Rainbough—”

“Ha-_ha_! Of course! If you take my place, I will certainly gift you with the Rainbough!”

Eleven’s hands move quickly: _“Surely there’s another way to get the stick, right? We could steal it or—"_

“If you are not convinced, of course, perhaps I can persuade you with this?” Faris unfurls a scroll of some variety; it’s hard to tell in the dark of the circus tent, but Erik’s pretty sure that’s his face on it. “My father may not be that enthralled by this Darkspawn business, but I cannot say the same for my guards. Perhaps, if you help me, I can keep this from getting into their hands?”

Ugh, that conniving little…well, what choice does the group have? “Fine, you win. I’ll do your stupid horse race.”

Faris claps. “Ha-HA! Thank you, my friend!” he almost yells, as if he hadn’t just tried to blackmail Erik. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must ‘prepare’ for the Sand National!” He springs to his feet, gleefully strolling out of the tent as his hood slides off his head. Wonderful.

Gemma sighs. “Well, that was unfortunate, but we may as well enjoy the show while we’re here!”

The blue-haired juggler—Mars, Erik thinks he heard from the ringmaster—steps out of the ring, making way for what appears to be...a bipedal cat? “Ladies and gentlemen,” it calls, “for one night only, the Great Veronica will perform for you!”

The audience explodes into applause, rising to their feet. Some even hoot and holler. Just what’s so “great” about her, anyway, Erik wonders.

The cat waves a hand—paw?—and in a burst of light, the ring is filled with all sorts of monsters. In another wave, the cat transforms, or so it seems, into a definitively human girl, brown hair woven into a pair of braids, decked out in a red-and-black checkerboard patterned dress. She bows, gracefully, a wink and a wide grin plastered on her face. 

“She’s an illusionist,” Sylv tells the group with wide, delighted eyes as the girl makes monsters appear from nothing and banishes them in the blink of an eye. “And they’re pretty solid illusions! If I didn’t know so much magic, I wouldn’t be able to tell them from the real thing!”

\---

The morning comes, unfortunately, and Erik et al make their way to the stables. “Let’s help Princeypoo with his race,” he grumbles, “and then we can get our prize and get out.”

_“Sounds like _someone’s_ a grumpy-gills,”_ Eleven teases. _“Buuuut, I can still steal the stick if you want_.”

“Doesn’t solve the wanted poster problem,” Sylv adds with a sigh before she practically shoves Erik inside. “We’ll be in the stands, make us proud!”

Erik sighs as he sneaks into the prince’s dressing room. Faris practically throws the racer’s garb on top of him, ducking into the corner as soon as the garments leave his hands. Such a brave man.

The race, honestly, isn’t that tricky; the hard part is keeping his mouth shut, and avoiding the weird glares that the circus girl (Veronica?) casts him. (Is she onto him?)

He practically tears the racing garb off, shoving it into Prince Stuck-Up’s hands as he bolts from the dressing room, and straight into The Great Veronica herself.

“That prince never learns, huh?” she mutters, sighing as she grabs Erik by the arm. “Some knight he’ll make...”

“Uh, hey, circus girl, where the _fuck_ are you dragging me?” Erik grumbles, trying (and failing, goddess, how tough _is_ this girl?) to pry his arm from her iron grip.

“Back to your friends. And away from Faris’ stupid schemes.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The celebration of Prince Faris’ third consecutive Sand National victory, and any hope of getting as far away from Faris as possible, is ruined by news of a dreadful monster in the surrounding territories. “Surely Prince Faris will save us!” Erik hears from the townsfolk, and the sultan himself seems swept up in the fervor as well.

Faris holds up the same scroll from the circus, mulling over it for a grand total of one second before Sylv and Gemma practically fall over themselves agreeing to help him.

“Sending your only prince into battle,” Erik mumbles as the party plus Faris exit the city, Faris dashing on ahead seemingly without a care. “I’m no expert on running a country, but that doesn’t exactly strike me as smart.”

“Oh, I’d never call the sultan smart, but that’s a big deal here.” In a flash of light, the Great Veronica herself (in her checkerboard dress, not in what Eleven referred to as a _big old fursuit_ between giggles) appears before the party. “Knighthood is almost this dung heap’s whole defining feature. Anyway,” she says, dusting the sand off her dress with a disgusted frown, “I’d love to see how this clusterfuck goes, so I’m coming along, alright?”

Erik opens his mouth to reply, but she continues on. “Oh, you don’t have a say in this, buster. That was a rhetorical question.”

_“I don’t object, really, but are you gonna be okay?”_ Eleven asks. _“I mean, this thing is supposedly pretty dangerous—"_

Veronica chuckles. “No need to worry about me.” Another burst of light, and a sword appears in her right hand. “I am _certainly_ capable.”

Erik shrugs. “Well, if you end up going back to the circus in a body bag, it’s not on us.”

\---

It’s strange, watching the twins fight together. They operate with a terrifying ease, each almost anticipating the other’s next move even before they’ve _thought_ it. (Though, he supposes, as his own sword strike leaves the Slayer of the Sands open to Eleven’s fancy knife work, perhaps the two of them are the same.)

And that’s not even covering Veronica, who fights as though she’s a knight herself, rather than an illusionist. Erik had expected her to fight a lot like Sylv and Gemma, magic flying everywhere (with the occasional rod, staff or mini-harp to the monstrous noggin), but her illusions seem more like an afterthought, just something to augment her sword or whip work. (And he can’t say he doesn’t appreciate her work; somehow, whatever illusions she tosses on the party seem to have a tangible effect on them, and he can tell he’s hitting harder.)

Faris, of course, hides behind not just the party, but his own squadron of knights, who also seem to be hiding behind the party. Veronica occasionally glances back towards them, grumbling something about chivalry in between sweeping sword strikes. (Just what’s her deal with knighthood, anyway?)

Finally, though, the Slayer lays dead in the sands, and Faris jumps for joy as Erik and friends nearly collapse themselves. “Ha-_ha_! Knights, please carry our prize back to the city. Surely the people will be glad to know of my heroism!” He charges ahead, humming tunelessly as the knights around him sigh.

_“He sure is a piece of work,”_ Eleven notes.

Veronica sighs. “Sure is. Every time I come to town, there’s another tale of how Faris roped someone into doing his dirty work for him. Until you came along, Mars had been his designated replacement for the races.” She undoes one braid, tutting at the state it’s in before redoing it while she continues on. “From what I’ve heard, he genuinely wants to do good for the people here, but...”

“He doesn’t really seem like the type to put in the effort,” Erik finishes for her. “Probably not learning from this, either…”

Veronica flashes him a (rather concerning, if he’s being honest) smug grin. “Oh, don’t you worry about that. I have an idea…” He thinks about asking what in all of Erdrea _that’s_ supposed to mean, but she charges ahead, tailing the knights and cackling to herself.

_“I’m a little afraid of what she’s cooking up,” _Eleven signs as he, Erik and the twins follow Prince Fuckwit and his merry band (and one huge scorpion-ish corpse) back to Gallopolis.

Erik nods. “Definitely. If she plots as well as she performs, Gallopolis is in for a nightmare.”

“But! I doubt any of us are going to talk some sense into Princeypoo, and his parents probably won’t raise a finger.” Sylv races in front of the group, arms out to her sides as if she’s trying to figure out flying. (Well, with how Sylv is, that’s not outside the realm of possibility, is it?) “So if she’s got an idea,” she continues, “it’s probably the only thing that’s going to get through to him, yes?”

Erik tries to think of a response, but even if he _had_ formed a thought in time, the cheers erupting from the Gallopolitan city walls would simply drown it out. Faris, it seems, is reveling in the attention, waving dramatically to every citizen he passes and embellishing the story (and his own role in it, of course) every time someone even starts to ask.

How does Gallopolis _live_ like this?

“People of Gallopolis,” Faris begins, gesturing to the Slayer’s corpse as it’s towed (slowly) into the center of town, “the beast that has plagued us for so long is no more! With my own blade, I have ended it—”

Out of the corner of his eye, Erik spots Veronica give a quick wave of her hand, and that’s the only warning he receives before all hell breaks loose. The Slayer suddenly bursts free from the chains binding it to the cart (why chain it in the first place, if they were so sure it’s dead), creeping ever closer to the crowd. The knights, and Faris himself…do nothing? Man, for all their talk of protecting Gallopolis…

Veronica tosses a sword to the wayward prince. “Well, what are you waiting for? You have a city to protect!” She crosses her arms, seemingly content to watch the chaos unfold when Faris inevitably fails to protect anyone. “What’s that again? ‘A knight’s word is his bond,’ right? And you swore to keep Gallopolis safe? So get to it already!!”

“What is she _doing?” _Erik asks Eleven and the twins. “Ugh, we better get ready to fight this thing again…”

Gemma huffs. “I don’t know if we can handle this thing again…it nearly wiped us out last time. And I didn’t get the chance to rest…”

_“I mean, we fought it once, and it’s gotta be weaker now, right? We should be fine…right?”_ Eleven asks, hands noticeably shaking in spite of his confidence.

Sylv, on the other hand, looks unworried as ever. “Oh, darlings, look closer. Where the light hits it…” Sure enough, when Erik takes a closer look, there’s a peculiar shimmer to the air, and for half a second he sees the Slayer still lying chained to the cart.

Wait, that means…that’s one of Veronica’s illusions, right? Huh, maybe he was wrong to have doubted her.

Faris takes the sword in trembling fingers, and in between the gasps and screams from the assembled townsfolk, Erik can hear him whimpering. _Your brave and charming prince, everyone, _he thinks with a roll of his eyes. Even if the crowd isn’t in danger, this is one hell of a way to prove the truth behind the prince’s false bravado. But ultimately, to Erik’s great surprise, Faris steps forward, however shakily.

And ultimately throws himself into the monster’s path.

The illusion shatters as the Slayer lunges at him, and Faris opens his eyes to see the monster chained and collapsed on the cart once more, the crowd agape.

“There, was that so hard?” Veronica asks, idly twirling the end of her whip in one hand. “You’re perfectly capable of doing whatever it is people want of you. Just…keep that in mind.” And with that, the air around her shimmers, and she’s gone.

“Ha-ha…” Faris chuckles nervously, eyes flitting between the crowd and Erik. “A…thousand pardons, my friends, for forcing you into doing my work. I shall tell my father of my deceit, and get you the Rainbough as promised.”

Erik wouldn’t exactly call Faris his friend, by any stretch of the imagination, but he’s not going to complain about this turn of events.

\---

_“Well, that was a bust.” _Eleven sighs audibly, a great big puff of air that’s honestly the most sound Erik’s ever heard out of him, and understandably so. _“Off to Gondolia we go, I guess…” _He slumps as he leads the rather-disheartened group out of the Gallopolitan city walls.

“And if it’s already gone, then we’re stuck, right?” Erik grumbles. “We don’t exactly have a boat, and trying to get onboard a ferry or something with us being on Heliodor’s most wanted list is going to be a struggle…” Does Gondolia need identification? If he were running a port, he probably would…

A puff of smoke blooms in the middle of the group. “No need to worry about that.” As the cloud blows away, revealing Veronica at the center (of course, who else would make an entrance like that, aside from Sylv who definitely would if given the chance), she draws her sword once more. “My contract with the circus is over for now, and it sounds like there’s going to be a _lot_ more excitement with you lot than I’m going to find on my own. So—”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t solve the boat problem, cat girl.” Erik watches her roll her eyes at his comment, and it’s the most satisfaction he’s gotten out of this whole ordeal. “Unless you can use some fancy connections to get us on a boat, you’re just another mouth to feed.”

She sighs. “I wasn’t done, _smartass_. How do you think I got here in the first place, teleportation?”

Erik can see Eleven’s hands start to explain _exactly _how they got to Hotto and grabs them to stop him. (It has nothing to do with any sort of crushes, _shut up inner Serena_.)

She continues, “I have a boat in Gondolia, so it’ll be easy to get us all out of there and into the great blue whatever. And you’ve already seen that I can hold myself in a fight, so no need to complain about me weighing you down, _poster boy._”

Erik groans. “We’re already wanted, and having a famous clown following us around is just gonna put more eyes on us, Ronnie.”

She points her sword at him. “Don’t. Call. Me. Ronnie.”

“I-if I may,” Gemma cuts in, “I think that if we have Veronica with us, it may be more likely to draw attention off of you two? It’s so obvious that they’d likely think it’s too…um, stupid, for you to even consider.”

“Yeah, Gemmy’s got the right idea!” Sylv punches the air so hard that her collapsed staff flies straight into Eleven’s hands. “Plus, the more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned. And I’d love to learn some of your tricks!”

As Eleven nods, smile near blinding in the Gallopolitan sun, Erik grumbles. A new addition to the party, against his better judgement, he might add. The boat might be useful, of course. But he can’t shake the feeling that having Veronica with them might attract unwanted attention in the end…

Oh well, he thinks, charging forward through the sands. He won’t lie, there’s something contagious about Sylv and Gemma’s attitudes. And with his growing mastery over his lightning tricks, he’s feeling more prepared than ever.

He _is_ the Luminary, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know I know I'm a big fan of the Being The Luminary Sucks train of thought but it doesn't feel very Erik. So instead you get I'm The Luminary And That's Cool. This won't come back to bite anyone in the ass no sir


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Costume changes, curses, and not-quite-stealth missions...what will await our heroes next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO it's been over a month!! wow!!! I've been working on a whole bunch of stuff, from prompts on tumblr to stuff for the [Rarepair Jam](https://thechavanator.tumblr.com/post/612418703147073536/everything-is-a-rarepair-some-sort-of-fanfiction) to, well, this! My backlog of chapters has now OFFICIALLY run out, amazing.
> 
> I've been looking forward to this chapter pretty much since I started this fic! I can only hope it lives up to my own hype, hehe.
> 
> Also, I still cannot write Scottish accents to save my LIFE

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Veronica holds out an arm in front of Erik, stopping him in his tracks (and causing Eleven to slam straight into him. Great, that’s gonna haunt his dreams...no, Erik, _stop that train of thought now_). “Do you really intend on waltzing into town like this?! If Prince Faris knew about Heliodor’s stupid Darkspawn hunt, surely Gondolia does as well?”

“I mean, Eleven and I have our hoods up, so—”

“Goddess above, you’re dense. You know that’ll just draw attention to you, right?” She murmurs some sort of wordy mumbo-jumbo, directing the resulting spell at herself. In a (now-familiar) burst of light, her entire appearance changes. “I _am_ an illusionist, you know. And if it means us _not_ getting thrown in jail, or worse, then I _suppose_ I can lend you some of my magic.”

Eleven nods, a sheepish grin adorning his face. A flash, and he looks almost entirely different, draped in clothes entirely too fancy for him. He glances around wildly, eyes practically the size of dinner plates, almost shaking his hair out of the ponytail that now holds it in place.

Erik tries to will away the Gay Idiot part of his brain (_oh no he’s cute_) as he short-circuits, and he outright misses the spell cast on him in turn. As Erik glances at his new apparel, the danger of putting Veronica in charge of his makeover is entirely too obvious: she seems to have put him in some sort of clown suit?

Sylv reaches towards his face and gently squeezes his nose. Or, Erik guesses, the red clown nose that Veronica put there. She collapses into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, the joke’s funny, Ronnie, but I won’t go into town like this.”

Veronica glares at him as though she can see his skeleton and would _very much like to free it from his body_. “I told you already: don’t call me Ronnie. And how else am I supposed to cover up your _ridiculou_s porcupine hair?”

“Surely we could just give him a normal hat, right?” Gemma asks. (Bless her, honestly.)

“_Maybe we can pretend he’s from Gallopolis?”_ Eleven adds. _“I picked up a pattern for some traditional garb while we were there, so you can model it off of that?”_ He fishes it out of his knapsack and holds it out to the rest of the group.

Gemma’s eyes gleam. Didn’t Sylv say she wanted to be a seamstress?

Veronica studies the pattern for a moment. “Hmm...” She murmurs the same incantation from earlier, and the next time Erik looks down at himself, he’s in far more serious clothes. Even if he does look like one of the Sand National’s jockeys...

“Wait, El, did you steal this from the stables?”

Eleven whistles innocently, once he stops giggling.

\---

“I talked to my ship’s captain. He said we can’t get out of Gondolia until the Signor Universo contest is over...” Veronica grumbles. “And that could _easily_ take days.”

Gemma sighs, “With Heliodor putting up posters everywhere, we don’t have time to just sit and wait, do we?”

“Well, that’s easy!” Sylv rests two hands on her hips. “We just ask the doge to let us slip early!”

“Sounds good to me.” Veronica grabs Sylv and Gemma’s hands. “Alright. Girl’s night. You two _gentlemen_ go find the doge.”

“And why exactly—” Erik begins, but she practically drags the two off before he can finish the question.

_“Well,” _Eleven notes, _“I guess it’s just the two of us again, at least for now. Just like old times, right?”_

There’s something inherently comedic about the idea of “old times” being, what, a month ago? But Erik won’t lie, he kinda missed having just Eleven around. Sure, having the backup is nice, but Sylv can be a bit too high-energy, and Gemma’s still being a little weird at him, and he won’t even touch on Veronica’s weird need to shit-talk him at every possible turn. (It has nothing to do with his stupid little crush on Eleven that refuses to die down, no sir.)

“Yeah, like old times. If we get this done quick, though, we might be able to get a little extra shopping done, right?”

Eleven’s eyes light up. _“I do need extra ink for my journal...and we could always use more forging materials, right?”_

Erik nods, leading the way through the twisting streets along Gondolia’s canals...or trying to, anyway, before he gives up and just asks the nearest local how to get to the doge’s house.

They arrive in front of the house in question, and as Eleven holds out a hand to knock at the door, Erik stops him. “Whoa, hey, hold up. Don’t we need a story? We can’t just walk up and say, hey, let us skip town for no reason.” But what could they go with?

_“Well, Veronica keeps talking about recruiting Sylv for the circus, so maybe we could go with that? Say she’s embarking on a solo show and we need to get her and her crew across the sea and we’ll lose our show if we don’t get out right away.”_

Goddess above, Erik is so glad Eleven’s here with him. “Perfect. You up for doing the talking, then? You and your silver tongue have a _lot_ more experience with this kind of thing.”

Eleven beams, and Erik knows his eyes are playing tricks on him but he could _swear_ Eleven is blushing. _“Metaphorically speaking,” _He replies, sticking out his tongue, but quickly sobers up. “_You got it, partner.” _And with that, he knocks on the door.

A young woman (a maid, from the looks of it) opens the door, murmuring something in Gondolian. “Good morning,” she begins, what business do you have with the Don?”

Eleven’s hands start moving, and all Erik can do is watch. He spins a beautiful tale about The Great Veronica and her poor troupe of performers, and from the looks of it, the maid is eating it right up. She motions inside the house, and a finely-dressed man comes up to the door.

“Doge Rotundo, sir, these gentlemen are—”

He takes one look at them and slams the door in their faces.

\---

As they return from their shopping trip, several hundred gold lighter with no added chance of getting out of town, Erik and Eleven find the rest of their party embroiled in combat with...a child? Erik blinks, exchanging awkward glances with Eleven as they process the scene before them.

Sure enough, Sylv is wrestling her staff away from a ten-year-old, as Gemma and another (particularly bewildered) child look on in concern and Veronica cheers on their resident pint-sized mage. Odd, to say the least. Sylv’s never struck Erik as the type to start brawls with kids (her behavior with Connie suggested the opposite, in fact), so either girl’s night took a turn for the particularly weird, or this kid must have _really_ pissed her off.

“No, no, you don’t understand!” Sylv’s opponent yells as she finally yanks the staff out of his grip. “My friend here...”

The observing child waves at them, mouths _hello_, and sighs. Gemma wanders towards him, examining her newest little patient.

“Gosh, he’s been cursed!” That was a quick examination, but then again, Erik doesn’t know the slightest thing about curses. “But I think...some birdsong nectar should cure this. Don’t you think so, Sylv?”

“You’re the healer!” Sylv gently bops her with the extendable staff. “Trust your own judgement more!”

“R-right...” Gemma sighs, then straightens herself up, looking more confident by the second. “Birdsong nectar shouldn’t be too hard to make, as long as we can find some clean freshwater...”

“Easy! There’s a spring tucked away just past the city. Getting water from there should be a breeze!” Veronica marches towards the town gates before stopping and doubling back. “Uh, don’t worry, kiddos, we’ll get your curse problem sorted out! And as for the rest of you, you’re comin’ with me!” She grabs ahold of Erik and Eleven (who simply shrugs, as if this is an everyday occurrence) and practically drags them towards the town gates, a bemused Sylv and Gemma following not too far behind.

\---

“Did it work, darling?” Sylv asks as their patient (Placido, they discover, through a combination of lip reading, scribbly handwriting, and something Erik calls “giving up and asking his friend”) finishes off the nectar.

Eleven places a finger on his lips. _“Hey, you gotta wait till he’s done, right? Give it a couple more seconds...”_

Placido visibly swallows, his friend and the party at large waiting with bated breath. After what feels like an eternity, he opens his mouth, and though what comes out sounds hoarse from a few days of disuse, it’s still audible speech.

_“Honestly, if this didn’t work, I was gonna teach him to sign,” _Eleven jokes, even as he lets out a surprisingly large sigh of relief. _“It would take a while, but I’m sure one of you has an accelerate-learning spell, right?”_

Gemma’s sigh sounds more exasperated than relieved, if Erik is being honest. “Magic doesn’t work like that,” she mumbles, before shaking whatever she’s thinking out of her head. “But that’s not the matter at hand; Placido, do you know who cursed you?”

Placido furrows his brow, clearly thinking very hard. “I never caught his name, Miss, but I know who it was! He was wearing some fancy armor, and he spoke with a really strong accent. If he comes back, I can easily point him out.”

A strong accent...Erik would probably consider the Gondolian accent rather strong (alarmingly so, if he’s being 100% honest), but clearly this curse-spewer isn’t local, and with the armor—

Erik’s blood runs cold. Oh, goddess above, he’s pretty sure who it was.

“Captain Baldspot?” Fuck, this is bad news. If Sir Robert caught up to them, they need to get out of here _now_. Chalky may be the brawn of Heliodor’s military, but Rab (as the guards seem to refer to him) has the tactical know-how, and while Erik and company can easily outwit Chalky, he’s not sure that they’ll get away from Rab easily at all.

“Sir _Robert_?” Veronica asks, mouth agape. “I-I mean,” she continues, clearly spitting out any sort of words to draw attention away from her previous words, “you think it’s someone you have some history with, Erik? In that case, we ought to move out quickly.”

Eleven and Sylv, meanwhile, have nearly collapsed from laughing at Erik’s creative nickname for their foe.

“Alright, we’ll take Placido home,” Gemma replies, prying a still-giggling Sylv from the pavement.

“Do you mind coming with us, Veronica?” Sylv asks once the giggle fit dies down. “We _will_ need your boat, after all!”

“Fine by me. You two, why not do a bit of sightseeing? It’s the right time of year for the Signor Universo competition; watching men make fools of themselves in front of an audience isn’t my style, but Erik does that all the time, so it should be right up your alley.” Veronica takes off with the (rather bemused) twins before Erik can even think of a comeback.

Erik huffs. “Man, can you believe her? I’m not sure how much of this adventure she’s gonna be here for, but if I have to put up with that for much longer...” He balls his left hand into a fist as he waits for Eleven’s agreement.

El, though, stays motionless for a few moments. _“I mean,”_ he says, once his hands actually start moving, _“I think we covered where my preferences lie? I’m totally up for watching this.”_

Erik sighs, less at the concept of Eleven being hopelessly smitten with attractive men (there’s hope for Erik yet!) and more at the fact that he actually _agrees_ with Veronica. “Alright, but I better not have to pull you away from the plaza if the docks open early.”

Eleven mock-salutes. “_You can count on me, sir!”_

As the pair approaches the plaza, Erik skids to a halt. Wait, was Eleven saying Erik _does_ make a fool of himself all the time?!

\---

As they take their seats at the very front of the plaza’s audience area, Eleven unties his hair, which falls elegantly into his eyes. “_Thank Yggie,” _he says, after brushing his hair back into place, “_it’s _weird_ having it up like that. I know it’s probably safer to change my style like that, but…”_

“It looks nice,” Erik mumbles. He’s positive that he was quiet enough that Eleven couldn’t hear, but a glance at Eleven’s (wide-eyed, very red) face indicates otherwise. _Figures_, Erik thinks: between how close they are and Eleven’s sensitive hearing, how did he assume it would go unnoticed?

Eleven stares straight ahead. _“Huh. Maybe I should put it up more often, then.”_

Before Erik can even _begin_ to process that thought, a stranger takes the spot next to him, and while this wouldn’t necessarily bother Erik in a _normal_ situation, this stranger seems like he wants to make _friends_.

“Och, what’s a pair’a fine-dressed laddies doing down here? Most nobles just sit high-and-mighty atop their roofs to watch the contest!” Erik recognizes that voice, that _accent—_

A quick glance confirms it: Captain Baldspot, in the flesh, eyeing them as though he can see through the glamour Veronica had cast on them. (Maybe he can? Erik _had_ heard that Sir Robert was a gifted caster, maybe that means illusions have no effect on him?)

“Well,” Erik begins, trying painfully hard to affect a Gallopolitan accent, “we’re not from here; my friend here was visiting my home for the Sand National, and since he was already here, we figured we would stop by Signor Universo, ha_ha!_”

Sir Robert’s eyes narrow. “Laddie, yer accent is _abominable_. Did ye take yer lessons from Prince Faris?” He shudders, hand moving for his sword.

Eleven pulls Erik to his feet and _bolts_, tugging him along by the hand. Just like old times, except they don’t have a cliff to jump from, unless Yggdrasil can somehow save them from _drowning_. No, all they can do for now is run, slipping past knight after knight (when the hell did _they_ arrive?!) until they find themselves cornered in the plaza.

Erik has never been happier to see a fireball in his _life_; as his eyes follow the path the spell left behind, he catches sight of Sylv, a wicked grin on her face. “Get out of there!” she yells, preparing another burst of flame. “We will meet up with you later, just go!”

The boys nod, weaving their way through the streets of Gondolia, turning here and there, perhaps making their path longer but hopefully confusing the knights on their tails. As they duck into an alleyway, Eleven panting and Erik ready to collapse from sheer exhaustion, they find potions slipped into their hands.

Glancing up at their savior, they find themselves face-to-face with Gemma, startlingly composed considering the situation. “Yggdrasil always finds a way,” she murmurs as they down the potions, feeling their strength seep back into their potions.

“_Thank you,” _Eleven signs to her, though she seems to almost brush it off. _“Let’s keep moving.”_

Their escape begins anew, with one extra body by their side. Through side streets and on rooftops, dodging every soldier that comes their way—until one lunges at them, Gemma falling to the ground as she clutches her leg. She murmurs a quick healing spell, rising slowly and carefully as Erik dispatches the knight that nearly took her out.

He nearly doesn’t see the orb of dark magic spawned from the plaza, weaving its way towards them as he helps Gemma to her feet, and when he _does_ spot it, he’s painfully aware that there’s no dodging it. It’s almost like it’s designed to follow him, no matter what turns he takes…

He braces himself for impact, already starting up a healing spell of his own, muttering a prayer for Yggdrasil to somehow save them all…but Eleven shoves him and Gemma aside. “_Go on, the world can’t afford to lose you,” _he signs as the spell grows ever closer. Erik can almost see the underlying but (_But it can afford to lose me,_ even though Erik knows full well that the world would be a far sadder place without his partner by his side, even though Erik knows that the world really _can’t_ afford to lose Eleven either), and his heart breaks.

Erik turns to look back, even as he and Gemma run towards the town gates, and he’s infinitely glad that he can’t see the expression on Eleven’s face as the spell hits him square in the chest.

\---

No matter what Veronica says, Erik is _not_ pouting. He’s just worried about Eleven, that’s all. After all, he _is _wanted for helping the supposed apocalypse-bringer escape jail, not to mention the theft of Heliodor’s most prized possession. _Twice_. Who knows what Sir Robert will do to him?

“He won’t be killed,” Veronica says, as though knowing that Eleven won’t die (likely just be severely maimed) will actually _help_ Erik’s nerves. “Well, if _I_ were what’s-his-bucket, the knight, that is. He’s probably just being interrogated. _You’re _the priority now, after all.”

Sylv sighs, very much unlike her. “Your boat is still in the harbor, right? So we’ll have to go back in there at some point…”

Veronica frowns, muttering, “Yeah, there aren’t any other harbors in this part of Erdrea. I _suppose_ we should wait until the soldiers back off…”

Before Erik can muster a complaint, Gemma rises to her feet. “No,” she murmurs. “The rest of you can wait, if you want. But he wouldn’t be back there if it weren’t for me, and—”

Veronica cuts her off. “Oh, goddess, do you think I’d _actually_ say we should leave him there? For better or worse, I actually _like_ the poor sap. And with the lot of us working together, freeing him should be a cinch!” She snaps her fingers, as if to emphasize her words.

“Yggdrasil always finds a way,” Gemma whispers, though her voice sounds shakier than it had earlier. Maybe she’s just worried about Eleven…or maybe her faith’s been shaken? No, that can’t be right, Gemma believes in this whole Luminary business more than anyone in the group…

“Yeah! So, what are we waiting for?!” Sylv expands her staff and _thunks_ the stick end on the ground. “We have a thief to rescue!” And with that, she packs up what little she brought, helps Gemma and Veronica with theirs, and sets off towards Gondolia’s gates.

As he watches the twins and Veronica take off, Erik thinks back to when their group expanded beyond just Eleven and himself. Back then, he was a bit grumpy about it, but now, as he joins them at the gates, greatsword in hand, he’s infinitely grateful that he found a wonderful bunch of friends.

\---

“Here’s the plan,” Veronica begins, once they’ve nestled themselves in the shadows of the city. “We’ll stay out of the streets, stick to the rooftops. At least until we _have_ to…I don’t think we can get to the plaza just by climbing on houses.”

Gemma taps her chin thoughtfully, adding, “Well, what about the gondolas? Even if there are knights in the canals, they’re unlikely to fight us on the water.”

Sylv’s grin is _blinding_. “Perfect! So we travel by rooftop, then make it to the main bridge in the center, and then hijack a gondola to get to the plaza!”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” A surprisingly solid one, at that. As long as they stay out of the knights’ sight, they should be able to make it to the plaza without a scratch on them. The main problem is the bridge…they won’t be able to hide there. But in the end, he shrugs off his concerns; he has faith in his friends, and in himself. “As long as we get to the gondolas quick enough, we should be fine.”

Veronica shoves him forward. “Alright, then, lead on, captain. We’ll follow your lead, if you’re so sure.”

Erik wants to fight her on that (all he did was voice his approval!), but goddess above now is not the time for a fight. As long as it’s not Sir Robert on the other end of his sword, that is. So he chooses instead to forge on silently into the night, climbing onto the roof (to the horror of the poor innkeepers, especially when he’s followed by three angry girls).

It’s a lot like sneaking through Heliodor, balancing on tightropes and hiding behind flowerpots and railings; the difference, of course, lies in the utter silence. There’s no playful banter, just the wind in his ears, the scraping of metal on metal as the knights draw their swords at even the slightest noise. Even with friends by his side, he feels painfully lonely. Goddess above, he can’t wait until Eleven is safe again.

Their stealth mission goes smoothly on the rooftops, until Erik finds himself staring down at the bridge in the center of the city. There’s a congregation of knights there, as if they’re expecting him. (Which, in all likelihood, they _are_, judging by Sir Robert’s presence in the plaza.) “Are you ready?” He whispers to the girls, each of them giving a thumbs up (however begrudgingly, in Veronica’s case) in turn. “Alright. Down we go.”

He jumps from the rooftop down onto the bridge, right into the center of the knights. He charges up a zap spell as the girls join him, letting loose as they fire off their own spells. He could do without lighting a giant HEY LOOK WE ARE HERE signal over their heads, but, he figures, the now-collapsed knights on the bridge would do a pretty good job of that on their own—

Wait, hang on, where did they vanish to? Perhaps She just moved them elsewhere? Well, now is _not_ the time to worry, there’s a sweetheart of a thief to save.

They drop down from the bridge, past a few distressed civilians, and slip into the closest alleyway. The gondolier doesn’t even object, stepping aside the instant he even catches a glimpse of them.

“Uh, do any of you know how to steer this thing?” Erik asks, as soon as they’re all situated. “Or are we just gonna pray that we’re going the right way?” Veronica rolls her eyes, grabbing the oar and paddling as fast as she can towards the plaza, circling around the back.

She holds a finger to her lips. “Alright, merry band of misfits, be quiet and—”

Erik pays her no mind, practically leaping off the boat and into the plaza. “Hey, Baldspot! Lookin’ for me?”

He can faintly hear the sound of Veronica’s hand hitting her forehead, but again, no time to deal with that. He’s got a plan; distract Sir Robert while the girls untie Eleven. He draws his sword, channeling his thunder magic—

And a fireball juts through the sky, ruining his concentration. In the blink of an eye, it’s followed by two gusts of wind and Veronica shouting, “Oi, you _idiot_, you’re blessed, not _immortal_.” (But aren’t they kind of the same thing? Every time a monster knocks him out, he bounces back twice as strong after a few minutes. Yggdrasil’s not letting him fall, not here, not anywhere—but that’s a discussion for anywhere but here.)

“Hey, don’t you guys have a hostage to rescue?” he asks, dodging sword swings and bolts of the same twisted magic that got Eleven in this situation to begin with. “I can handle this on my own.”

“We don’t doubt you, darling,” Sylv calls, “not in the slightest! But Eleven…” She pauses, casting some sort of explosion spell that makes Erik more than a bit nervous. (Why in all of Erdrea did Yggdrasil let Sylv explode?!) “Well, he needs all the help he can get right now.”

“The quicker we get out of here, the better,” Veronica adds, summoning blasts of wind from her war fans (and, loath as he is to admit it, Erik thinks that is _very_ cool). “For both him _and _us. And while this arsehole is still standing, we can’t exactly make a clean getaway, can we?”

Erik catches Gemma’s eye, and while she says nothing as she prepares her magic, she casts her eyes briefly at Eleven, tied up beside her. Erik can’t quite tell from this far away, but it looks as though he’s sleeping, if not _worse_. His breathing eases just a bit as Gemma’s healing magic washes over him, but Erik can clearly see what Sylv meant; Eleven’s in no state for fighting, or escaping.

What the _fuck _had Sir Robert done to him? Erik is going to _rip him to shreds_ for this—

He feels a strange burst of magic hit him, and suddenly the world is tinted red and everything slows around him. Or is he moving _faster_? Does it really even _matter_? No, what matters right now is beating Sir Robert and getting Eleven out of here and back to safety, wherever safety might be nowadays. The ocean? Cobblestone?

“Erik, Erik, _stop!”_ Gemma grabs his arm, pulling him back from his target. He blinks, and everything is normal-colored and normal-speed again. “I’m angry too, but I can’t let you kill anyone, no matter what he’s done to us _or_ our friends!”

He glances down at Sir Robert’s form, still conscious but just _barely_. Whatever rage had taken hold of him—was that one of Yggdrasil’s blessings? Or something else entirely?—had _definitely_ done a number on their foe. He’s still angry, goddess above he’s _livid,_ but Gemma’s right. If the Luminary were this reckless, wouldn’t he just be proving Heliodor right?

He may want revenge on those assholes, but perhaps the best revenge is making sure he never proves them right.

Gemma tugs him towards the pole Eleven’s tied to, Sylv already cutting the ropes loose. Eleven collapses onto Erik as soon as the ropes give way, and Veronica—

Wait, where’s Veronica?

Sir Robert scoffs. “Ye blasted fools,” he practically spits out, “ye really ought ta put yer trust in safer places. She already left without ye.”

Fuck, _really_? And after she’d practically led the invasion of Gondolia’s knight-heavy streets on her own…

“Honestly, do you _really _think I’d go through all that effort _just_ to get out of this goddessforesaken city by myself?” A familiar voice calls, and as Erik gazes towards the sea, he spots a _gigantic_ ship barreling towards the plaza, Veronica standing proudly at its front. “I could get myself out of here easily. It’s _you_ lot that were the trouble, frankly.”

Erik may have his disagreements with her, and he’s sure this sentiment will dissolve within seconds of being on that boat with her, but right now he could not be happier to have her on _his_ side.

Sir Robert struggles to his feet, or at least _tries_ to, but whatever Erik had done to him (what _was_ that?!) certainly took the wind out of his metaphorical sails, and the few remaining knights are far enough away that there’s little hope of getting him off the ground before the party escapes. Now all that’s left is to hope Eleven is still strong enough to get himself over there, and as Erik feels him stir against his back, he grows more and more certain.

The twins jump aboard the ship, Gemma stumbling as her feet hit wood. Erik feels Eleven try to stand, unsteady as he tries to readjust to supporting himself, and wraps an arm around him. “Hey, El, are you up for this?”

Eleven doesn’t respond, not with his hands, anyway; his arms are rigid, like he hasn’t figured out how to get them working again. He nods, trying to force a smile, but Erik can tell he’s just trying to save face. Whatever the knights had done to him couldn’t have been pretty.

Okay. The knights are getting closer, and they need to get out _now_. “El, I got you. You trust me, right?”

He grabs Erik’s hand, nodding again. Still ever-so-wobbly; he may be the Luminary, but Erik’s not too sure he can get them both out of this situation by sweet tree-powers alone. But he has to believe, right? He has to…

Erik is jolted from his thoughts by a gust of wind, strong enough to pick up both Erik _and_ Eleven and carry them to safety aboard the ship. As the two of them land, he catches sight of Gemma and Veronica, their hands glowing with a pale green light; is this their magic?

The wind dissipates and four bodies hit the deck with a _thump_; Erik knows the exhaustion of using powerful magic all too well. (Memories of training his magic with Granddad Jasper come to the forefront of his mind.) They struggle to their feet, Erik still holding onto Eleven.

“Trust in _all_ of us, darlings,” Sylv whispers as she pries Eleven from his grasp. “Now, I think our little thief here deserves some rest, hm?” She follows Veronica’s lead, guiding him below the decks to (presumably) where they’ll be sleeping.

“Ye’ve not seen the last of me, Darkspawn,” Sir Robert calls from where he (still!) lies in the plaza, practically dripping venom with his voice alone. “Next time we meet, ye’ll not get out of me grasp so easily…”

Veronica barks out a laugh. “I wouldn’t count on that! Now, Dave,” she calls, grabbing the attention of a pink-masked man that Erik genuinely hadn’t noticed until this point, “onwards to Zwaardsrust!”

They sail on, past the entourage of ships bearing Heliodor’s crest, past the outright _barricade _of Gondolian vessels holding them back, past Benigno, Placido, and the doge waving them off.

“Back to where it all began,” Veronica muses, and Erik double-takes. Wait, he hadn’t told her about that, had he?! “Well, where my partnership with Dave began, really!” Her hands flail, as though she’s trying to cover her own tracks. Strange; she’s not been the most forthcoming about life before the circus (though compared to Eleven, she may as well be an open book), so perhaps she knows more than she lets on?

But, of course, perhaps that’s a discussion for the morning. Or any one of the mornings aboard this ship, anyway. For now, though, Erik’s adrenaline is gone, and he feels like he could sleep for _months_. He stumbles below the deck, collapsing into the hammock next to Eleven’s, and drifts into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we will have met all our party members!!! Gosh, this is exciting.
> 
> BY THE WAY I've been keeping a google doc of all my tumblr prompt fills [here!](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1cmK_3olQ-2SBWu8FJIcPx5XzFjRkm650PWM6v0pZ5NY/edit?usp=sharing) A few little snippets of various ships, as well as a rather different sort of roleswap that _might_ end up on ao3 if I write enough bits of it. (DO BE WARNED that there's one (1) shitpost nsfw fic; it's not in the headings because I don't wanna advertise that lmao but it IS there, albeit not that detailed at all.)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a certain port visit gone wrong, a batch of Mean foreshadowing, a tournament with a few unexpected faces, and a few gay daydreams. You know, an ordinary day for Team Luminary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! It's been! A time!
> 
> For those who don't know, my sis got married a bit over a week ago, and up until then house has been abuzz with planning bridal showers and then canceling bridal showers and having to redecorate our entire basement as like a replacement mini-reception...it's been an experience. But it's done! And all that plus juggling a thousand wip ideas has been keeping me from this monster of a fic.
> 
> But also, like, I wanted to reconfigure how I wanted the next couple chapters to go (because this is...over six thousand words. DOUBLE THE LENGTH OF CHAPTER ONE) and also the act 3 stuff, and now that THAT'S settled I think i'm good to get back to this! It's also my July Camp NaNo project so stay tuned for...more of whatever this is, I guess.
> 
> ANYWAY ON TO THE ACTUAL CONTENT today we're covering Octagonia, which got too long to cover Grandpa and Sister Shenanigans, whoops. But they've been introduced, and that's what matters. WHICH MEANS!!!! The spoilery swaps have OFFICIALLY started. Please enjoy Mia having been let off the leash and Hendrik trying his best. And also...a surprise self-indulgent swap :O

_ “What..._was _ that?” _ Eleven asks, once he’s finally been roused from a well-earned sleep. His movements are slow, hesitant, and Erik’s heart breaks as he wonders, yet again, what exactly Heliodor had done to him to break him _ this _ badly. “ _ I woke up and you were..I dunno, faster. Like you wouldn’t stop till he was…” _He lowers his shaking hands, eyeing Erik as though he’s worried Erik will pull that stunt on him next.

Oh. Maybe it hadn’t just been Heliodor, then. Maybe...maybe the reason El is so anxious is because of him? And Erik can’t exactly blame him, either; whatever had taken hold of him left him out of control, and he’d be lying if he said whatever that was didn’t scare him, too.

_“Whoa, hey.” _Eleven grabs his hand for just long enough to cut off his racing thoughts. “_I know what you’re thinking, and no. Heliodor’s _wrong._ I don’t...I don’t have faith in a lot of things, but I believe in you. Sure, you’re not a _saint—" and oh, there’s a hint of a smile and a burst of that snark that Erik’s grown way too fond of—_ “but I don’t think Yggdrasil would give her power to a total goody-two-shoes anyway. Whatever that was, I don’t think it’s meant to be bad.”_

Someone knocks on the door, far too hesitant to be Sylv or Veronica, and while Erik hasn’t gotten a good read on Dave yet, he doesn’t seem to be the type to be too hesitant about anything. So Gemma, then. “Well, we _ do _ have a pair of magic experts we can talk to about it,” he says, and the stop-and-start of their guest’s feet on the deck floor confirm his suspicions. “Right, Gemma?”

She joins them, clutching a book as she settles down onto the floor before either of them can offer her a hammock. “I can’t be entirely sure, but I think it’s a you thing.”

Huh. Interesting. “So another one of Yggie’s blessings. Weird, she doesn’t strike me as the type to go all-in like that.”

Gemma shakes her head. “No, not a Luminary thing; an _ Erik _thing. Nothing I’ve heard has ever suggested the Luminary of old having a power like this. Even if you weren’t the Luminary, this would still be part of you.” She opens the book, flipping through the pages as she continues, “You said once before that you don’t have much magic aside from your Luminary powers, right?”

Erik nods. “I have my sigils, but that’s it. You think it’s connected?” 

“It’s possible. Perhaps that’s a manifestation of your magic?” Her gaze grows more intent as she thumbs through the pages. ”I’m not...the best when it comes to studies, but Sylv said she may have seen a solution in here...ah-ha!” She points to an image on the page she’s turned to. “This says that two spellcasters may be able to help you control this form…”

“_So, what are you and Sylv gonna do, keep him on a leash?” _ Eleven laughs, and Erik is _ over the moon _ to see him mostly back to his normal self. “_That sounds like one hell of a sight.” _

“No leashes!” She replies, but contrary to her usual demeanor whenever El’s involved, she seems to be laughing along with him. “Anyway, Sylv has never really been good with support magic, and this is definitely a support-magic sort of deal...so, um, I was thinking you might be able to.”

Eleven mulls it over, or at least pretends to, for about half a second before nodding. _ “I’m in. I’d _ love _ to see what he can do with this...you know, when I’m not being held hostage. Or anything like that.” _

“Oy, loves, we’ve arrived!” Dave calls from the deck above. “Get your landlegs workin’ an’ make your way to Zwaardsrust!”

Eleven springs from his hammock, yanking Erik to his feet and nearly dragging him up the stairs towards the rest of the group. Erik can’t quite blame him; if he were in El’s shoes, he’s sure he’d want to get away from the water as quickly as possible.

“Hey, darlings, before we leave…” Sylv rushes to the dock, blocking the rest of the group from rushing off. (Well, trying to, at least; she can’t quite keep _ anyone _ from going past her. Or over her, for that matter. But they stay out of courtesy, of course.) “I want you all to make a promise with me…” She stares out over the land, up towards Yggdrasil Herself. “No matter what happens, we won’t leave anyone behind.” 

She turns back towards them, holding a hand out in front of her. Gemma lays her hand over top, glancing at the boys and motioning with her head for them to follow suit. Eleven shrugs, bringing his hand and El’s into the pile as well; Veronica rolls her eyes, but still extends her hand as well.

“Alright!” Sylv calls, utterly _ beaming _. “Team Luminary! Nothing’s going to split us up, no matter what comes our way!”

\---

“Zwaardsrust probably won’t have much for us at all,” Veronica mumbles, and Erik can’t disagree. So far, there’ve only been ruins, the occasional survivor wandering through to lay flowers on the graves of those who never escaped.

It’s weird, this place should almost certainly make him feel something, but it doesn’t, not really. It’s like...it’s almost like when Serena’s mum died, when they were really small. It was sad, sure, but he didn’t feel the same grief Serena did. He wasn’t the one crying himself to sleep for two years.

But even so, he _ knew _ Serena’s mum. Sure, this may have been his home, back when he was a literal baby, but he didn’t really _ know _ anyone that died here. His parents, even the Heliodorian princess he’d heard whispers of back in the castle...they were all strangers to him. And the strange, sad looks everyone is casting at him as they climb over rocks en route to extant civilization is almost too much to handle.

If one more person tries to offer him sympathies, he’s going to fucking snap. He’s the Luminary, sure, he can handle that. But beyond that? He’s no prince, not in this life, anyway, and it would sure as shit be nice if everyone around him understood that.

Finally—fina-fucking-ly—the ruins are gone, and not too far after that stands a domed city. Octagonia, or so Dave had told them, most likely where the Rainbough is being held.

And sure enough, there it is, center of the city, shimmering from its glass cage next to a familiar looking glassy ball; it looks like a dead-ringer for the Red Orb, but this one is crafted from some sort of yellow gemstone. Maybe all the kingdoms had one, at one point? Sure would explain how this one got here.

Eleven tugs on his sleeve, directing his attention upwards at the truly massive statue adorning the building in front of them. A very familiar looking statue...oh, oh no. Goddess above, that’s Sir Chalky.

Lightning fast, Erik flips up his hood and pulls on his gloves, Eleven laughing even as he follows suit. Erik silently curses fate, grumbling, “Man, just our luck, huh?” He sighs, stepping closer to their prize. “Let’s just grab the Rainbough and get out of here.”

As he approaches the counter (what is this, some sort of reception desk?), a stranger pokes his head into view. “Eyeing our grand prize, are you?” he asks, all fake smiles. “Well, you’re in luck, then, signups are still open for our Masked Martial Arts tournament!”

Eleven tilts his head to the side. “_Masked...what now _?”

Veronica pushes her way past the boys, slamming her hand down on the counter. “Perfect! With all of us, nabbing this should be a snap!” She slides a bag full of gold to the receptionist. “Five entries, if you please!”

He leans further over the counter, eyeing the group. “I’m sorry,” he begins, not sounding very sorry at all, “but children are not allowed to compete.”

Sylv pushes herself onto her tiptoes. “Oh, honey, I may look like a child, but I promise, I am just as much an adult as the rest of my friends!”

Gemma pats her on the head. “It’s alright, Sylv, we can sit out! I’m not sure I’m cut out for the tournament scene, anyway…”

Sylv opens her mouth to complain, or maybe just to chew Gemma out for undervaluing herself, but the receptionist cuts her off. “Alright, so three entries...here are your masks. Each is numbered, so whatever’s on your mask is your number for the partner drawing. Which should be in about...ten minutes. Just in time!”

Wow. Talk about lucky. Or maybe it’s Yggdrasil making up for the mess that had been their trip to Gondolia? Erik brushes it off, checking his mask. “Huh, six...”

Eleven flips his mask over, giggling as soon as his eyes land on the number. “_Eleven! Easy to remember_!”

Veronica takes a quick glance at hers before dragging the boys towards the arena. “Do you idiots _ want _ to miss the drawing?” 

The twins wave goodbye as they make their way into the stands, and before long, the drawing begins.

“Number 6, step forward!” The announcer calls, and Erik makes his way through the crowd of would-be winners. “Your partner is...number 8!”

Truth be told, he’s not sure what to expect of Number Eight. She seems a bit like him, hood up, trying to avoid anyone’s lingering attention. They might get along well, honestly—

“Oh, it seems there’s a previous agreement with our, uh, sponsors!” Erik and his partner alike both glance at the announcer, who seems to have been chatting with an older gentleman. (And a weird one, at that, with his odd hair that’s such a light purple it’s almost white.) “Participant Eight already has a partner!”

She gasps, stomping over to the announcer. “Gramps, what the _ fuck_?! We’re more likely to get the prize if—”

The announcer coughs, trying to restore some semblance of order as Number Eight and the grandpa bicker amongst themselves. “Continuing on, Number Six, your partner is...Number Seven!”

A blur of pink enters Erik’s field of vision (that hair _ cannot _ be real, Erik thinks, though, he supposes, this _ is _ coming from a man with natural blue hair), settling next to him. In a strange, clearly-faked high voice, she calls to the crowd: “The Jewel of Octagonia, the Steel Siren, Michelle! With both of us combined, we can give all these fighters hell!” She winks at him as the crowd roars, whispering, “Don’t mind the gimmick, love, Octagonia _ thrives _ on silly things like these!” 

Oh, thank Yggdrasil it’s just a gimmick, he’s not sure he could take goddess-knows-how-long dealing with _ that _ every sentence.

He can hear a few of the fighters, and even a few particularly-loud audience members, gossiping amongst themselves: “Aw, man, how come this newbie gets to fight alongside the champ?!” “Maybe the announcer felt bad ‘cause his partner got switched?”

Wait, this pink girl is the _ champ_?!

\---

“_You lucky son of a bitch, you get the champ and I’m stuck with a guy whose name literally sounds like ‘loser’?” _ Eleven pouts as they exit the arena. “ _ He can’t even understand sign language. This thing is rigged_.”

Veronica sighs. “You saw Eight get yanked away from Erik, this thing is _ definitely _ rigged. Pour in enough money and you’re set.” She frowns, clearly racking her brain for _ something _ . “But this girl...I’ve been here a few times before, and I’ve never heard her name before. She must be pretty tough, then, if she waltzed into town and started wrecking house.” She sighs again. “And my partner wants _ costumes, _so I’m in for a ride…”

Erik shrugs. Okay, so of course he would have preferred to be partnered with Eleven, or even Veronica, goddess forbid. He’s sure nothing could beat their teamwork. But if he teams up with the reigning champ, well, he’s sure as hell not _ complaining_. 

He feels a tap on his shoulder as his aforementioned tournament partner enters his field of vision. “Hello, my darling partner! There is so much to discuss, so please do come with me, if it won’t cause too big a fuss.” She grins, almost sickeningly-sweet.

Veronica leans in, whispering, “Wow, I’d rather take the costumes than that shtick.”

Eleven giggles silently even as his own partner whisks him away for some sort of inevitably-one-sided strategy meeting.

Erik shrugs again, simply following behind Michelle as she leads him below the arena into a large building. Children’s giggles fill the hallways as they settle into her bedroom. Or what Erik assumes is her bedroom, anyway.

She flops onto the bed. “Sorry for bringing you out all this way! The more people are around, the more I have to keep up the rhyming, and I’d rather not whisper everything to you. So,” she continues, grabbing a notepad and a pair of reading glasses from her desk, “what kind of combat do you specialize in? Up close, far away, magic, what?”

Erik blinks. “Uh, I can use a little magic, I guess? Mostly I just use a greatsword.”

“Perfect!” Michelle summons what looks like a small bubble. “You can take close-range, and I can cover the magic end of things!”

It sounds suspiciously like she’s volunteering him to get hit, but she seems so _ sincere _that Erik brushes any complaints aside. “Sounds alright with me. Seems like we’re a pretty well-rounded team.”

She nods vigorously, curly pink hair bouncing with every up-and-down motion. “Getting the prize should be a cinch! Alright, strategy meeting adjourned.” She tosses aside her notebook, returns her glasses to the desk, and pushes the door open; as she leaves, she tells him, “If you’d like, you should spend some time with the little ones! I’m sure they’d enjoy playing with a new face.” She grins, taking off down the hallway after a gleeful child.

Erik tries to hide his smile and gets up to follow her when a dull _ thud _ against the window draws his attention. He rushes towards the sound’s source, but the person responsible scrambles to leave before Erik can get a good look at them. All he could see was a pair of blue eyes peering at him from beneath a hood.

Wow, isn’t _ that _familiar? El’s trying to steal their top-secret strategy, then? Pretty ballsy of him.

\---

“Nice work,” he tells Michelle after their first match. He holds up a hand, which she delightedly high fives as she bows before the crowd. “Dunno what that guy’s problem was, but we took care of him easy.”

She nods. “The Underdigger claims the tourney treats him so unfair, but he just has to face the facts: we beat him fair and square!” She grins as she pulls him off the battlefield, and he just catches a glimpse of the healers descending on the fallen fighters before they find themselves in the spectator stands.

“You were amazing out there!” Sylv calls as Erik and Michelle find their way to the twins (and Veronica). “The two of you make a perfect team!”

Veronica nods reluctantly. “I’m a bit worried about our little hostage up there, though; didn’t he say that his partner doesn’t know sign language?”

Gemma giggles, whispering, “Oh, no need to worry about _ that _ ; the two of us got that taken care of!” Erik would question that (when did she and Eleven get so buddy-buddy with each other, anyway?) but the announcer’s booming voice interrupts his thoughts—or it _ would _ have, if the crowd didn’t drown him out entirely at the mere _ sight _of Number Eight and her partner.

The atmosphere of the arena shifts in mere seconds, from anticipatory excitement into a rage Erik hasn’t seen since he crossed paths with Sir Chalky. When Erik glances around him, he actually spots a few ushers escorting particularly-angry audience members out of the stands, clutching a variety of items that definitely would have wound up on or in the offending pair. Erik can’t really blame them, if he’s being honest. (No offense to Michelle, of course; it’s the _ sentiment _ that’s the issue, you know.)

Gemma scrunches her face in obvious distaste. “I can understand the competitors being upset,” she half-yells in a surprisingly effective attempt to actually be heard, “but the audience, too? I’d have thought that kind of drama was right up their alley.”

Michelle shakes her head. “Everyone knows the whole competition is rigged, of course! But the organizers are never that upfront about it. It’s all closed-door deals, never anything like that.”

Wait, it’s _rigged_? They don’t have a shot at getting the Rainbough at all, do they?!

“Oh, don’t look so surprised,” Veronica mutters, rolling her eyes at him. “What, did you think that number-drawing was _ legit_? The announcer probably just misread the sheet telling him who goes with who.”

Sylv shushes them all (or attempts to, anyway, considering the roar of the audience surrounding them), gesturing wildly to the arena as both teams (Erik unfortunately missed their team names, which he supposes he can forgive; puns have never really been his thing) grasp their weapons. El has his knives, as always, Liu Za has some sort of bizarre spear, Grandpa has a staff that’s almost as tall as he is, and Number Eight has...does she have anything at all, actually? Wait, no, there’s a glint of metal, she must have claws.

Goddess, that’s terrifying. She must be out for blood.

The announcer hushes the crowd, and as Erik adjusts to his newly-regained ability to hear his own thoughts, the bell sounds, and the match officially begins.

El glances at his teammate for all of two seconds before they launch into combat. They’re terrifyingly in sync, considering that they had no method of two-way communication before yesterday, and Erik finds himself irrationally jealous.

And, of course, he _ knows _ it’s irrational. Even with the two of them having figured out their strategy, he can still see the missteps, the times Liu Za clearly seeks a verbal answer and receives none in return (for obvious reasons). But, then again, he’s not jealous of Liu Za for his (clearly lacking, good goddess, there’s probably a reason he earned that name) teamwork, no, it’s _ solely _ because he wishes that he could be up there fighting side by side with Eleven.

He lets his attention slip from the battle in front of him, thoughts instead dreaming up a fantasy, an alternate scenario where he had, somehow, ended up with Eleven as his partner in this stupid rigged tournament. (After all, he’d stumbled his way into victory in one round, who’s to say he and Eleven couldn’t make it through the rest on sheer confidence and impeccable teamwork?) He can easily imagine it, the two of them making quick work of those two jackasses he and Michelle had taken out, facing down a bunch of faceless participants who don’t last long enough to leave a scratch on them. It’s easy to look out at the arena and see himself in Liu Za’s place, facing off with Gramps and Claw Girl in the finals, and sure, that’s a tricky match, but they pull through easily.

And as they stand in front of an adoring crowd, on their feet applauding the duo who took out the MMA’s obvious corruption at work, as they finally get their hands on this stupid glowing twig, well, who could blame El for getting a bit adrenaline-high from the whole thing and pressing soft lips to Erik’s, in front of Yggdrasil and (a clearly disgusted) Veronica and maybe even Sir Chalky? And who could blame Erik for throwing all caution to the wind, pressing back and—

The bell chimes once more and Erik is ripped from his silly fantasy (that’s all it was, after all, Eleven had told him upfront that their friendship wasn’t gonna be _ like that_) as he watches Eleven fall, joining Liu Za on the ground in front of Claw Girl.

Well, it was a nice fantasy while it lasted.

Sylv’s actually _ pouting _ as they exit the stands, and Erik can’t blame her. That’s one less chance they have at snagging the Rainbough.

Eleven shrugs as he meets them. “_I mean, when you guys lose, I can steal it from them. It’s cool." _He’s grinning, of course, even if he winces when he accidentally bumps a bruise. (Healing magic doesn’t fix everything right away, after all.)

Erik plays along with this little shtick of theirs, this back-and-forth game. “Strong words from someone who couldn’t even copy our strategy right,” he retorts, the same smirk coating his words.

_ “Well, did you even _ see _ them? I couldn’t get a fucking hit in! I don’t think that girl’s human.” _ He pauses, as though he’s finally processing Erik’s snark. “_Wait, ‘copying your strategy’? Hey, we may have eaten shit out there, but that was all us, no strategy-copying necessary.” _

“Well, then who the fuck was at our window last night?” He’s not mad, not really, not if it was Eleven, but...wait, who else does he know with a hood? “Fuck, no _ wonder _they won! They stole our fucking strategy!”

Veronica mutters something under her breath about neither team’s strategy being particularly _ original _ , but Erik doesn’t pay it much mind. No, what _ really _ matters is the cheaters he’s probably gonna face off with someday. Sure, Claw Girl may have put up a convincing show about the whole pre-established agreement deal, but if she’s been _ spying _ on them, then clearly she’s just as on-board with this whole thing as Gramps is!

Oh, he is _ definitely _ going to kick her ass when it finally comes time to fight her.

The rest of the group disperses towards their respective rooms, but Eleven stays behind, looking at Erik with a painfully nervous air about him. “_Uh, I hate to ask,_” he begins, hands shaking just a bit, “_but my partner took off after we lost and something tried to raid my room last night. I’m...a little too nervous to stay there on my own…_”

Erik can’t really blame him, given what he’d gone through just, what, a week or two before? And it’s not that he doesn’t want to help, but after his little daydream a few days back, his heart might actually explode if Eleven is just one bed away from him. “You could crash with the girls, right?” 

“_And risk Veronica making fun of me? I’ll pass._” Okay, that’s fair.

“Point taken. Alright, you can stay with me for a bit. Michelle’s staying in the orphanage, so I’ve got a spare bed available—”

He doesn’t even finish his sentence before Eleven crashes into him at lightning speed, nearly squishing the life out of him with the world’s tightest hug. Well, if his heart _ does _ explode, he’ll be fine if this is his last memory.

\---

The inevitable duel with Team Cheats doesn’t come in the next round, where he and Michelle face off against a pair of “hometown hotties” (as the guy in the stands next to Erik during their first round match describes Sinderella and Whambelina). And it doesn’t come in the semi-finals, though if he _ does _end up losing this whole tournament it would have been worth it just to see Veronica forced into some kind of vaudeville act with her partner. (Erik lives to see her suffer.)

No, ass-kicking time, it turns out, requires waiting until the final match. And, boy, has Erik been saving up some extra special magic for _ this _ fight. And, sure, maybe it’s risky to pull out some Yggdrasil-given lightning magic in a town with a statue of one of the guys hunting him down for, well, being the Luminary, but he can handle it. He can easily nab the prize, pay Michelle her share, and get the rest of them out of here before anyone shows up. (Besides, with the whole sea available to them, how would Sir Chalky know they’re even here before they’ve already gone?)

Sylv and Gemma aren’t so on board with this, but hey, he’s the Luminary here, he knows what he’s doing.

He nods at Michelle, who flashes him a thumbs-up as she twirls her staff, reciting some stupid rhyming nonsense that the crowd eats up. A dramatic sigh catches his ear from the other end of the arena; man, it’s a shame that Claw Girl is a filthy cheater, because they’d _ definitely _ get along well.

The bell echoes through the arena and the stands, through the cacophony of the crowd that _ still _ isn’t over the rigged number draw—not that he can really blame them, of course—and finally, _ finally _ , Erik can kick some ass. He casts a quick glance at his friends in the stands, at Veronica (still pouting that he and Michelle took her down), at the twins (Sylv practically on the edge of her seat, Gemma clearly trying to enjoy herself but with an edge of nervousness tinting her grin), at Eleven (beaming down at him as though he couldn’t care less about anyone else in the arena—but, of course, that’s just Erik’s imagination), and _ then _ he gets to work.

“Go for the older gent, love!” Michelle calls to him, just low enough that the crowd can’t call her out on forgetting her shtick, as she starts weaving her spells, staying just out of reach of Claw Girl.

Erik doesn’t really acknowledge her request, practically flying past her, grasping his greatsword as he slams the flat of the blade against Gramps. (No lethal force, one of the tournament’s biggest rules—and one of the _ only _ rules, from the sound of it. And sure, maybe the other fighters get a bit too stabby, but it’s nothing he or the healers can’t manage.) Gramps, to his credit, seems a lot sturdier than Erik had thought, since the blow leaves him swaying a bit on his feet but otherwise largely unbothered. Hm, maybe he’s gonna need that magic sooner than he’d thought.

He keeps his eyes on Gramps, setting a sigil into place every now and then, swinging his greatsword, dodging summoned chunks of ice, trying to figure out just what this guy is capable of. (He nearly gets knocked onto the arena floor by an uncomfortably familiar burst of dark magic, but he manages to avoid _ most _ of that.)

Michelle shrieks, shrill and echoing, and Erik just catches a glimpse of Claw Girl’s titular weapons nicking his partner’s leg. Oh, that’s _ dirty. _ Which means it’s time to pull out all the stops on _ this _fight.

He focuses, feeling the thrum of electricity in his fingertips, running all through his body before he unleashes it around him.

Gramps takes the brunt of it, crumpling to the ground near-instantly, and Erik _ just _ manages a look at his eyes, gazing at him with a strange mix of shock and...familiarity? Hm, probably in league with Heliodor, but Erik will deal with _ that _ later.

Claw Girl, however, even as unharmed as she is, gasps, frozen in place as she stares at what’s left of Erik’s lightning. She hisses “_you!” _as she lunges at him, but the motion seems almost half-hearted, easily dodged. It doesn’t take long for one of Michelle’s fancy water-bubble spells to take her down, too.

Erik lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding as the bell clangs one final time, catching a glimpse of the announcer’s shocked face as the second-place finalists are nearly dragged out of the arena. They _ won. _ That twig is as good as theirs, at least once they negotiate payment with Michelle.

\---

Eleven nearly tackles him to the ground the minute he exits the arena, but Erik really can’t bring himself to care.

“Congrats, champ,” Veronica grumbles, _ clearly _ not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting any sort of praise from her.

“Alright, Rainbough gotten!” Sylv cheers, detaching Eleven from his willing victim and latching onto Erik herself. “Well, almost gotten, anyway. We still got the prize ceremony tomorrow, and—”

He feels a tug on the very end of his sleeve and looks past Sylv; there’s a sheepish-looking little girl attached to him, now. (Seriously, what is it about their group that leads to kids finding them?) “Uh, ‘scuse me, Mister Michelle’s Friend,” she mumbles, “but Miss Michelle went down to the garden and didn’t come back yet, and there’s a big scary hole down there…” She shudders. “A couple of the boys tried to go down and see if she was there, but they came back real quick. Said it’s full of webs…”

Sylv practically flings herself off of Erik. “Well, there’s no time to waste, then! We have to find Michelle!”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “She’s a tournament champion, Sylv. She’s fine. Assuming she’s even down there at all…” She scoffs, but grabs her sword anyway, like she knows it’s a losing battle. (She probably does.) “Honestly, if we go down there and it turns out she left the garden without them seeing…”

_ “They’re just kids, Ronnie, you can’t fight them.” _ Eleven replies, sticking out his tongue but flailing backwards when she tries to punch him for the nickname. _ “And besides, I think we’re gonna need her to get the Rainbough anyway, right? They’re not gonna hand it over if only one champ is there.” _He grabs the girl’s hand, leading the charge back to the orphanage.

“S’right there,” she mumbles as the group finds themselves staring at, just as she said, a _ big scary hole. _ Sylv tosses a quick frizz spell down it (to the horror of her sister), setting fire to the cobwebs strewn about it and lighting their path enough to reveal a set of stairs. As though it’s a trap for a set of hapless kids…

“Well,” Gemma begins, clearly struggling to be as confident as her words might suggest, “shall we?” She takes a step forward, hands clutching her mini-harp and her staff tight enough to nearly snap them. The rest of them follow suit, and Erik eyes the webs and the walls as the mages light their path. This is _ definitely _ some sort of trap, right? There’s no other reason for a monster’s lair to be here, Erik’s sure of it.

“Pardon,” a voice rings out in the darkness, and Gemma screams, lashing out with her staff and making contact with _ something. _ Sylv and Eleven focus their magic, lighting the walls and showing the face of their nightmares: ...the old man from the tournament?

“Was that truly necessary?” he asks, rubbing his head on the spot where Gemma must have hit him.

Gemma pales. “Sorry...it’s a bit unnerving down here, is all.”

“Anyway, Gramps, what exactly are you doing down here?” Erik asks, ignoring Sylv’s ill-fated attempts to stop him from using that nickname. “I’d say this is a job for _ champions.” _

“Two of us didn’t compete and the other not-Erik members of our group lost,” Veronica corrects. Erik elects to ignore her.

Gramps sighs. “My granddaughter and I were headed back to our rooms in the inn. I heard her scream and try to fight some scoundrel, but when I ran to find her, she had vanished. I have looked all over town, but she is nowhere to be found.”

_ Scoundrel? _ Why does this guy talk like one of Heliodor’s knights?

Sylv pats him reassuringly. “It looks like we’re headed in the same direction! Stick with us, darling. We’ll find her.”

\---

They find their way towards the center of the hole (cave?), weapons drawn, magic at the ready, eyes wide open. Erik can hear the sounds of a skirmish up ahead, a familiar voice growling as whatever monster lies up ahead lets out an inhuman wail.

“Well, I think we found your granddaughter,” Erik says, gesturing ahead of them. “Sounds like she’s doing fine in there.”

“Of course she is, Erik. I have trained her well.” Gramps leads the girls into the fray, leaving Erik and Eleven in their dust.

Eleven lights his fingers with the beginnings of a fire spell, signing, _ “Okay, is it just me or is it weird that he knows your name?” _

Erik shrugs, ignoring whatever conversation about spiders and Mystery Juice spills over from the next room. (He’s sure he doesn’t want to know.) “Eh, probably heard it during the fights, or the drawing.”

_ “No, your name wasn’t mentioned at all.” _ He gestures towards where the rest of their merry band went. _ “Uh, we should probably join them before Veronica smashes someone’s head in.” _

Erik nods, grabbing Eleven’s hand to make sure they don’t get separated (no, he’s not looking for an excuse to touch him, inner Serena...okay, not _ just _ looking for an excuse, anyway), and the two find their way back towards their group. Whatever dramatic stand-off _ was _ happening here has definitely moved past the casual chat phase and firmly into _ kick monster ass _ mode. And speaking of monster ass...well, the quicker this whole search-and-rescue is done with, the better, because he really doesn’t want to look at this freaky giant spider for the next hour. Especially if it’s talking about revenge on _ Sir Fucking Chalky. _

“We _ told _ you it was rigged,” Veronica tells him as he unsheathes his greatsword. “Apparently the management team was feeding uncooperative fighters to this _ thing_—” she shudders— “and turning them into some nightmarish protein shake. And it looks like your partner and Miss Stabby were next on the chopping block.”

“Hey! Less talking, more fighting.” Claw Girl pauses in her attempts to free Michelle from her current spiderweb prison to scowl at them—or, well, he presumes she’s scowling, given the hood still somehow covering her face. “You can do all your stupid exposition _ after _ Arachtagon is taken care of.”

Erik rolls his eyes, but does as she says, channeling his sigil magic into his greatsword and lunging into the fray. Truth be told, between Eleven, Sylv, and his own fire magic, he figured this would be far easier, considering that they’re facing a _ giant spider, _ but the stupid thing (Arachtagon, Mia called it?) is a lot tougher than he bargained for and has entirely too much web-making capacity.

_ And _ , he notes as Gemma tries fruitlessly to smack him with her staff, the spider _ also _ seems to be able to scramble their brains. Wonderful.

Gramps casts some sort of spell and Erik watches Gemma’s eyes clear as she suddenly realizes just who she had tried to hit. “Sorry, Erik,” she mumbles.

Gramps awkwardly pats her on the shoulder. “It happens to the best of us, Miss…” He trails off, _ clearly _ because he hasn’t learned anyone’s names yet. (Aside from Erik’s, for some as-of-yet undisclosed reason.)

Claw Girl, seemingly finished with freeing Michelle, dives towards Arachtagon, slicing into its torso, and that seems to be the end of that, finally. It lets out one final snarling cry of coming vengeance as its form fades into dust, just like everything else that’s faced Team Luminary. (Rab aside, of course.)

As much as he hates to admit it, Claw Girl and Gramps really did save their asses, and as cocky as Erik can be, he knows when to thank people. (Most of the time.) “Uh, hey, thanks for—” His voice cuts out as his eyes land on her hood.

More specifically, his eyes find themselves drawn to her shoulders, where her hood seems to have fallen and folded in on itself. The hood itself, in all honesty, is nowhere near as interesting as the intricate, _ dark cyan-blue _ braid it once concealed.

Erik’s never seen anyone with hair anywhere _ close _ to his color. No wonder she had her head hidden, she was probably a target for anyone who didn’t look close enough at the wanted posters.

She turns, and for once he gets a good look at her eyes, blue like his, seriously, this is getting _ uncanny _ . “Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it,” she begins, tilting her head on seeing Erik’s surely-dumbstruck face. She reaches up, eyes widening when she realizes her hood is gone. “Shit. Jig’s up, I guess. We were _ gonna _swipe the prize and have you meet us in Zwaardsrust for it, but I guess we don’t have to anymore, right, Gramps?”

“Hold up,” Erik cuts in, “how are you so sure we’re still gonna meet you, anyway?”

She laughs. “Team Luminary loves a mystery, right? Plus, ‘round here, all roads lead to Zwaardsrust.” She grabs Gramps’ arm, tossing down _ something, _and the cave is filled with smoke as the pair of them disappear.

Michelle, either completely missing the Luminary comment or kindly ignoring it, drags a pair of bodies Erik hadn’t even noticed (is one the announcer?) to their feet, glaring at them. “Thank you for helping me out, all of you!” she tells the party, eerily chipper given her visible fury. “Pass that along to our runner-ups, won’t you, Erik, love?” 

“We will!” Sylv chimes in, just as perky, even though she has her hands on her hips in clear rage at the tournament organizers. “Honestly, darlings, if you want to skew the results so badly, try running a casino instead.”

Erik swears he sees a lightbulb go off in their heads. Ugh, they never learn…

_ “Well, she’s right,” _ Eleven says, looking more than a little ticked off. (Gemma whispers something in Sylv’s ear, the two giggling their heads off. Is Erik missing something here?) “_We do like solving mysteries...and she looks _ way _ too much like you. There’s gotta be something weird at play here.” _

“Agreed. Maybe _ she’s _ been the Luminary all along, and we’ve been chasing our tails this whole time.” Veronica cackles, the glares from the rest of the group doing nothing more than encouraging her.

_ “What are we waiting for?” _ Eleven beams, grabbing Erik’s left hand and Gemma’s right. (She, in turn, grabs Sylv’s, and _ she _ somehow manages to wrangle Veronica into this silly little human chain.) “_To Zwaardsrust!” _

“Back to the beginning…” Sylv muses, stunningly serious for all of her usual mirth, but she swings Gemma and Veronica’s hands and giggles. “Onwards!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (hm, El's claim of a thing trying to raid his room doesn't check out with what was going on, very suspicious, hm)
> 
> Top notes got too cluttered so mentioned here: I went through and fixed the dividers because they're way too long on mobile and drove me NUTS.
> 
> Michelle's DELIGHTFUL MMA fighter name suggested by the lovely Peachy (tumblr's mypunkpansexualtwin) like a million months ago!
> 
> Next time on troublerouser: We head back to Zwaardsrust, get some sibling bonding in, and maybe get to figure out what Vince is up to while Michelle is busy kicking ass in Octagonia?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik ends up at the weirdest family reunion, one whole OC gets introduced and is relegated to backstory, Erik crashes a boat, and a beach episode goes very very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO YOU CAN SEE CAMP NANO IS GOING WELL
> 
> By the end of this month I SHOULD be on track for a one-chapter-a-month average! Amazing.
> 
> ANYWAY actual chapter content: I had a lot of fun making up a new funeral rites deal! Zwaardsrust is canonically big on flowers so...also, Nettie here is one of my DQ OCs making a cameo here; she simultaneously got a promotion in terms of Erdrean role but also a demotion in terms of being dead. Oops.
> 
> I was GONNA leave this as close to canon as possible, but uh, I was bored with how Lonalulu was going so here we go I guess.
> 
> ALSO please enjoy one of my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE SWAPS. It's only briefly mentioned but...hehehehe.
> 
> CONTENT WARNING: brief mention of minor canonical suicide attempt in this chapter.

Zwaardsrust, for the most part, is no more exciting than it was the first time through. Still ruins as far as the eye can see, still makeshift graveyards filled with headstones only slightly worn away after nearly two decades...really, Erik’s not sure why he expected anything different. But it’s been a weird week, all things considered, or at least weirder than he expected from a fighting tournament. (Even considering whatever the hell the Abominable Showman is…)

_ “You okay?”  _ Eleven asks as soon as he can snatch Erik’s attention from the stonework. Erik tenses, feeling the same way about these  _ stupid  _ ruins as he had last week, but Eleven seems to backpedal almost immediately.  _ “I mean, it’s one thing to lose your home, but…”  _ He pauses, as if he’s trying to figure out the words.  _ “It’s different when you don’t remember it.” _

Well, he hadn’t really expected a comment like that. “Yeah, you’re right,” he replies. “Definitely different than going back to Cobblestone.” It almost sounds like Eleven’s speaking from experience, but the thief just pats him on the shoulder and gazes out on the ruins once more. Okay, so Erik isn’t getting answers today…

Sylv skids to a stop, bouncing on her tiptoes as she points towards what  _ looks _ like the remains of a castle. Squinting as he follows her lead, Erik can  _ just _ make out a pair of human-shaped figures standing on the ruined walls. “That’s them, I’m sure of it!” she calls, jumping and waving in a seemingly-fruitless attempt to catch their attention.

Not much to do but go to them, right? Erik leads the way, weaving through overgrown vines and over a few rocky spots as he scales what’s left of the walls to reach them, keeping an eye out to make sure the rest of the group isn’t falling behind. (They keep up quite well, though Eleven and Gemma have to tag-team to boost Sylv high enough to scale the final wall.)

“Took you long enough,” Claw Girl grumbles, clearly not even bothering with the disguise now that they’re far enough from town. (Erik really has to learn her name.) “You’re lucky Gramps hasn’t started chewing you out for being late for your history lesson.”

“In due time, Mia.” Gramps thumps his staff against the ground. “For now, Erik...there is something we need of you, something only Zwaardsrust’s royal family can do for this land.” He gestures behind him, towards a small stream bubbling up from somewhere to the side of the castle ruins. “Come with us. The rest of you may meet us when we are done.”

Eleven steps towards him, reaching for his knives, but the twins hold him back. “El, it’s fine,” Gemma murmurs, just loud enough for Erik to hear. “I know who they are now, we can trust them.”

“ _ I’ll believe it when I see it.”  _ But still, he rejoins the rest of the group, letting Mia (that’s her name, got it) and Gramps escort Erik to whatever the  _ fuck _ they’re supposed to be doing.

\---

“I couldn’t believe it was you, at first,” Mia tells him as they get ever closer to the stream. “Thought it was a trick, or something, but Gramps said your little light show hurt like a bitch, so it had to be the real deal, right?”

Gramps huffs. “I certainly did not say  _ that, _ Mia.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she says, waving him off. (Erik was right, they’re gonna get along  _ wonderfully.) _ “And who else can use lightning, right? So you’ve gotta be either a monster or the Luminary, and the tournament didn’t seem too picky about letting monsters compete...or working with them, obviously. So why hide being a monster?” She jabs a finger at him. “So  _ obviously _ you’re the Luminary.”

Unfortunately, he can’t fault her logic in the slightest; if she knows enough to know that lightning is weird for humans, he’s fucked. So he chooses not to address it, ready to channel his Luminary powers at a moment’s notice—

He’s  _ not _ ready for her to latch onto him, nearly squeezing the life out of him. The magic thrumming through his veins dissipates as he tries to process what she’s doing.

She lets go quickly, bounding back to where she was in mere seconds. “Don’t tell anyone about that.” She looks down and away from him, suddenly very interested in the grass. (He won’t tell her that everyone can see them.) “It’s just…” She wipes a few unexpected tears from her eyes. “I haven’t seen you since I was a kid, you know. I thought you were  _ dead _ .”

Gramps taps his staff on the ground once more, though it carries far less impact on the dirt than it had on the castle walls. “Mia, let us wait to tell him. The rite, first.”

She rolls her eyes but still relinquishes Erik to her grandfather’s care. (At least, Erik  _ presumes _ he’s her grandfather...and given that she and Erik have almost the same hair color and the fact that she knew him when she was younger, Gramps might be  _ Erik’s  _ grandfather too. But, then again, that would mean Gramps was king of this place once, and that’s a weird thought. All around, this is going to be an  _ awkward  _ family reunion story someday.) “Fine. You do the explaining and I’ll grab the flowers.” 

Erik watches as she plucks a few stray blossoms from the grass around them. They’re nothing like any flowers he’s seen before; the petals are so pale they’re almost translucent, as though they’re ghosts left behind from Zwaardsrust’s fall. “Hang on, flowers?” he asks. “What do we need  _ flowers  _ for?”

Gramps waits for Mia to return, arms covered with blossoms, before explaining. “There are still a few souls lingering from the kingdom’s fall. Most have been sent onward by their surviving loved ones, but those with no one left to mourn them cannot find their path back to Yggdrasil. It is the royal family’s duty to guide these spirits to their rightful resting place.”

Erik scoffs. “Right. And how do you know I’m from the royal family, anyway?”

Gramps and Mia cast concerned glances towards each other. “Well, Prince Erik, it was fairly common knowledge that the Luminary was of Zwaardsrustian royal blood. And…” he trails off for a moment, dabbing at fresh tears just as Mia had, before continuing with a shaking voice, “do you truly believe I would not recognize my own reminaing kin?”

Erik stares dumbstruck as Mia cackles, taking care not to disrupt her armful of flowers. “Congrats, buddy, you got a sister  _ and _ a grandpa in one day,” she tells him, grinning as she watches him process this particular surprise.

A sister? He  _ had  _ one, if only in spirit; that was Serena, before Cobblestone was wrecked. And he  _ had  _ a granddad, though admittedly Jasper had gone back to Yggie or whatever of his own accord. Is he supposed to be  _ happy _ about this, these... _ strangers _ waltzing into his life claiming to be family?

Mia thrusts a bundle of flowers into his hand, interrupting his train of thought entirely. “Just lay them in the water. Gramps and Yggdrasil will take care of the rest.” She kneels down, setting her blossoms in the water with surprising care. Erik follows her lead, leaving the stream coated in flowers and petals between the two of them.

He looks up, watching Gramps as his surprisingly-loud voice echoes over the hills and walls of what was once a (supposedly) great kingdom. “Mighty Yggdrasil, see these souls off to rest with You once more…”

Before his eyes, the flowers begin to glow as Gramps’ words continue to wash over the land, blending into a mush of sentences Erik can no longer distinguish from each other. The center of each bloom is lit by a single speck of light, a beacon of sorts (if he’s going to be romantic about it) marking each soul’s passage down the stream. One little ball of light at the foremost edge of the flood of petals seems to exit its flower, floating up to Erik and Mia, in turn, before finding its way back just as the light show fades.

“Gramps would probably say that was Mom and Dad trying to say hi,” Mia whispers, “but I dunno if I believe all  _ that _ .” Still, he can see something sad lurking behind her eyes, a sort of melancholy she’s covering up with sarcasm.

Hm. Maybe they really  _ are  _ related, after all.

“Irwin...Krystal...finally you can rest.” Gramps sighs, gripping his staff so tightly Erik can see his knuckles turning white. “At last, my final act as King Hendrik of Zwaardsrust.”

Mia rolls her eyes. “God, Gramps, you sound like you’re gonna kick the bucket. No need to be so  _ dramatic  _ about it.”

The moment is short-lived. There’s a familiar face approaching them, familiar sets of armor peering from behind trees and crumbled walls. In short,  _ fucking _ Heliodor found them. Maybe Hendrik  _ is _ gonna kick the bucket today.

Speaking of Hendrik (not Granddad, not even Gramps anymore, that is  _ too _ close to reality for Erik’s comfort), he points his staff at the army surrounding them, channeling some sort of magic, but Mia holds up a hand. “Hang on, I got an idea,” she tells him, before stepping forward and facing Sir Goddamn Chalky directly.

“Princess,” he warns her, “step away from the Darkspawn—”

She doesn’t even let him finish. “You mean my kid brother? The one Nettie  _ died _ saving? Do you  _ really  _ think she’d have wanted this, Chalky? Do you  _ honestly _ think she’d want you to avenge her by  _ killing  _ him?”

The words mean nothing to Erik, of course—aside from the kid brother bit, though he’s not a kid anymore and she can’t be  _ that  _ much older than him—but they seem to stop Sir Chalky all the same as he turns towards his army. They eye him with obvious concern as he mulls over his options.

“Run,” she whispers, grabbing his hand and nearly dragging him off, weaving through trees, past the stream, and into some sort of hidden underground passage. The two listen to the thundering footsteps on the ground above them, slowing, stopping, starting again, gradually growing more and more distant until they can barely hear them at all.

“Nettie?” he asks, refusing to leave the safety of this passage until he’s one-hundred-percent sure the army is gone.

Mia gazes back towards the entrance with melancholy eyes. “Right, you were just a baby, you couldn’t remember her. Princess Garnet...well, she always told us to call her Nettie. Carnelian’s kid, not that he did that great a job taking care of her, from what Gramps told me. She was here a lot, so she’d babysit me when Mom and Dad were busy in royal meetings, or whatever.”

Right, he’d heard about her; Heliodor’s lost princess, who perished in the fall of Zwaardsrust and set Carnelian off on his whole Darkspawn hunt in grief. Or so the stories said. Honestly, he half expected her to be alive and well somewhere else.

“She kept us both safe as long as she could, but the monsters were too strong…” She frowns. “I don’t remember much about that night, honestly. I was still pretty small.”

Goddess, she looks like she’s going to cry, nice going, Erik.

“So, uh,” he cuts in, desperately trying to change the subject, “where did you guys go after Zwaardsrust fell?” 

He realizes all too late that maybe that’s  _ not _ the greatest choice of topic change, but Mia just waves a hand vaguely. “Just about everywhere. Gramps had caught wind of a monster he thought might have been responsible, and we’ve been trying to track it down ever since. Calls itself Seregon, or something.” She sighs. “Spent most of my childhood gathering intel, occasionally trying to talk some sense into Carnelian...not that  _ that _ did much good.”

A heavy thud of approaching footsteps sets the two of them on edge, Erik instinctively reaching for his greatsword until Hendrik reveals himself. “Frankly,” he tells them, “I suspect this Seregon is the Lord of Shadows the Luminary is destined to defeat, and that the monster is responsible for warping Carnelian’s mind. He was one of the Luminary’s most ardent believers before the fall…”

Erik scoffs. “He lost his  _ kid,  _ Hendrik. You don’t think that might be why?”

Hendrik gives him a strange look. “Perhaps, but he simply would not listen to anything I said. Regardless,” he continues, motioning for the young royals to rise, “the soldiers have gone. We should rejoin our companions before night falls.”

\---

_ “There you guys are!”  _ Eleven signs the instant they get close enough.  _ “I thought Heliodor had gotten you for a minute, but the army just kinda...marched off.” _

“Huh, sounds like whatever you tried worked, Mia.” Wait, right, they don’t know Mia and Hendrik’s names, do they? “Uh, this is—”

Veronica waves him off. “Oh, the twins filled us in. Retired King of Zwaardsrust, Princess Mia, all that jazz. No need for all the introductions.”

Hendrik nods. “There will be plenty of time for that once we leave this place. Do you have the Rainbough, Erik?”

Oh, fuck, right, he’d nearly forgotten. He pulls it from his bag, examining it closely under the sunlight. Honestly, it just looks like an ordinary branch somebody painted. “Uh, is something supposed to be—”

Erik doesn’t even finish his sentence before the world does that stupid topsy-turvy thing it  _ always _ does when he’s looking at a memory, but this...can’t be a memory, can it? No, that’s clearly him, and Eleven, the twins, Veronica, Mia and Hendrik, standing on a strange circular altar in the middle of the woods, and that hasn’t happened (unless there’s some parallel-timeline bullshit going with this Legendary Hero business, and Erik doesn’t want to even  _ touch  _ that idea). Is it a vision? Maybe…

“I know where that is!” Gemma shouts as the memory, vision,  _ whatever _ fades from his sight. “There’s a forest that looks like that just outside our hometown. The priest always told us it was sacred, so no one was allowed in, but Sylv and I, um, may have snuck in a few times.”

Huh, who could have imagined the posh twins were so rebellious?

_ “And I think I know what those stones are,” _ Eleven says, fishing the Red Orb from his bag and handing it to Erik.  _ “Hendrik and Mia have the yellow one, right? So that’s two down.” _

Sylv grins, giggling gleefully at the mention of home. “So, let’s go, then! Find the rest of the orbs, and then off to Arboria!” 

As the rest of them rush through the ruins, Hendrik trying his best to keep up, Erik gazes down at the orb in his hand. “Uh, El, you sure about this?” he asks. “You swiped this yourself, after all.”

Eleven just grins at him, blinding and beautiful.  _ “Eh, it’s more sentimental than anything. Besides, you’re more important.” _ And with that, he rushes to join the rest of the group, leaving Erik to ponder just what the fuck  _ that _ meant.

\---

“So,” Erik asks as they depart Puerto Valor in search of the orbs, “mind spilling the beans about your mysterious disappearance,  _ Ronnie? _ ”

Veronica stiffens, whirling around with whip in hand. (Was she holding that while  _ steering?) _ “Again,” she sighs through gritted teeth, “don’t call me Ronnie! And what I choose to do with my spare time is none of your business.”

“Well, I’d rather know where the Luminary’s squad spends their time. Wouldn’t want any  _ traitors  _ in our bunch, you know?” He leans on the steering wheel, paying no mind to the ship’s change of direction.

Her grip on the whip tightens. “Are you implying that I’d  _ sell you out? _ Trust me, my shows make more money in a day than I’d  _ ever  _ get from turning you in.”

“Are they always like this?” Mia loudly asks, clearly trying to cut through the tension. “How the  _ hell _ have you all survived this long?”

The response is silent (probably Eleven), but when Erik turns to see, the wheel turns further and further, spinning out of control until it stops entirely, along with the  _ entire boat _ .

Veronica dashes to the edge, peering over the side. “You  _ idiot, _ you got us stranded on this no-name island…” She furrows her brows, clearly trying to fight off the urge to kick Luminary ass. “If I can’t leave this island within the next few days, I will genuinely fight you.”

“Counting on it,” Erik calls as he leaves the boat to investigate the damage.

Thankfully, according to his expert investigational skills (okay, he asked Dave, but he won’t give Veronica the satisfaction of calling him an idiot again), he concludes that the boat itself is fine, just sort of stranded on the coastline.. Just needs a way off this island. Somehow.

Mia creeps closer to a strange pool of water in the island’s center, peering inside. Sylv joins her, standing on her tiptoes and gazing down. Suddenly, something erupts from its center, splashing them as it takes its place on a nearby rock. Whatever it is looks  _ mostly _ human from where Erik is standing, stringy black hair hanging from its face, a fish-like tail in place of legs—

Wait. A  _ merman _ ?! He’d always assumed Granddad Jasper was making those up…and honestly, when Erik had imagined them as a kid, he never thought they’d be so...buff.

The merman stares down at them from under his mop of hair, stretches for a moment and opens his mouth to dispense his sea-born wisdom: “Yo.”

Well, that was underwhelming.

Mia, too, seems more than a little stunned. “Uh, ‘yo’ to you too.”

Sylv seems utterly unphased, like she’s seen plenty of weirder things in her life. (Though, of course, Sylv  _ is _ an adult in a ten-year-old’s body at the moment.) Actually, she seems  _ happy _ at this development. “Oh, do you live here? Why are you here all alone, darling?”

The merman sighs. “Just visiting, for a bit. My sweetheart was supposed to meet me here so we could live together under the sea, but...well, obviously, he hasn’t shown up yet.”

Erik joins them at the center, catching Eleven’s eye for half a second as the other boy turns pink and looks away. Well,  _ he _ sure seems lovestruck. Erik really shouldn’t feel this compelled to fight a fish-man, but he’s pissed  _ already  _ and if he has to watch Eleven make heart-eyes at a buff merman, he might outright lose his shit.

Erik hears a growl he didn’t even realize was  _ coming from him _ cut itself off. Gemma lightly bops him with her staff, which is glowing with a magic that feels  _ slightly _ familiar. “Not here, Erik,” she hisses. “Save it for the next fight.”

Fair enough, he supposes. Man, he hopes that wasn’t obvious, especially to Eleven. He’s pretty sure  _ flipping out because you have the hots for someone else _ violates their pseudo-agreement from the Manglegrove.

“Well, do you know where we can find him? I can kick his butt into gear if you can figure out a way to get our boat moving again.” Mia cracks her knuckles with a discomforting grin on her face. “Or if you know where to find an orb of some sort.”

“Lonalulu. Just tell him Vince is lookin’ for him.” He waves a hand, seemingly willing the waves to move, then pauses, looking her straight in the eye (at least Erik presumes so, considering he never seems to open his eyes in the first place). “Please don’t kick Kai’s butt. I’m sure something just held him up.” He gives the group a strange grin. “As for an orb, if you bring Kai back here, I can arrange for you to go under the sea and get the orb my queen keeps.”

“Huh! The Stallion’s free again,” Veronica yells from the boat. “I guess we’re free to get the rest of the orbs, now?”

Sylv shakes her head. “A quick detour first, darling!”

\---

Lonalulu is surprisingly busy for such a small, seemingly-isolated island town. Each building is decorated top to bottom with local flowers and pearls, and the townsfolk seem to be celebrating...well, something, that’s for sure, judging from the shop stalls set up everywhere and the performances on the shoreline.

As the seven of them exit the ship with wary feet, a woman by the dock hangs a string of flowers on each of their necks. “Welcome to Lonalulu, cousin! You’re just in time for the summer festival!”

Gemma’s eyes gleam. “Summer festival?”

Mia pushes to the front of the group. “I’m good with celebrating  _ after _ we take care of our mission. Is there a Kai here?”

The woman’s expression changes in the blink of an eye; no longer all smiles, she’s all but  _ scowling _ at Mia. “Oh. Him. Kai’s probably down by the church.” She gestures behind herself with a look that screams  _ I would rather be talking about anything else. _ “Not sure what you want out of  _ him, _ though. Lazy, do-nothing boy…” She sighs, turning abruptly and rejoining the festivities without so much as a goodbye.

“Well,  _ she  _ sure seems friendly,” Erik muses, mostly in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence that descended upon his companions.

Gemma furrows her brow, murmuring, “I wonder why she doesn’t seem to like Kai…surely he can’t be  _ that _ bad, if Vince is as head-over-heels as he seemed to be.”

“Who said mermen can’t be bad judges of character?” Veronica follows their not-so-friendly guide’s lead, starting down the path towards the church. “Come on, we have a sweetheart to deliver, I guess.”

They wind through the town’s stone paths, past dozens of townsfolk selling pearls (“the town’s main export,” Hendrik tells them, as if anyone had asked) and finally arrive at the church, where a fairly sizable crowd has gathered around an older woman.

“Tell us the story again, Auntie!” a child calls, murmurs of agreement spreading throughout a  _ mass _ of kids, all sitting crosslegged just outside the church doors.

She chuckles. “Okay, one more time, but  _ just _ once more.” She wheels around a strange box and unlatches it, to the delight of her pint-sized audience (which seems to have grown, as Sylv, Gemma and Eleven have joined the kids). It springs to life, unfurling into a small sort of animated stage.

Erik joins Eleven and the twins on the ground. Okay, his interest is  _ definitely _ piqued.

“Once,” she begins, winding the crank on the side as figures inside the stage come whirring to life, “there was a young man. He was a strong fighter, kind to all he met, and loved by  _ everyone  _ in Lonalulu. The town loved him  _ so  _ much, in fact, that the  _ kahuna _ offered him his own daughter’s hand in marriage. His future, and the whole town’s, for that matter, was set to be bright indeed.”

“And  _ then  _ what happened?” a kid pipes up, and the crowd bursts into a frenzy of murmurs and yells. Are these kids just amped up by the festival, or is this  _ always _ what happens when she tells this story?

Auntie turns the crank a bit more, and a sea monster slowly rises from behind the stage. “A great monster attacked the town, threatening our fishing, our pearl-hunting, our whole way of life. And Kainoa set out to fight the monster, and he succeeded, but as it sunk back into the ocean, its mighty tentacles split his ship in two, and he sunk with it.”

“ _ Kai? _ ” Mia hisses amidst the exaggerated gasps of the crowd, two inches from Erik’s ear as she settles down with the rest of the group. (He can hear a frustrated huff from Veronica and a crack from Hendrik’s knees as they, too, sit down to listen.) “If he sank with the ship, how the  _ fuck _ is he still here?”

Giggling, Sylv presses a finger to Mia’s lips. “Darling, there are  _ children _ here. And those who look like them, of course.”

With another turn of the crank, the whole stage transforms, the land giving way to the endless blue of the sea. “As he sank,” Auntie continues, an eerie tone in her voice (she’s obviously well-practiced at storytelling), “he heard a voice.”

“A mermaid!” one of the children screams. 

“‘I can save you,’ it called to him as his breath gave out, ‘but it will cost you your soul…’”

Eleven glances at Erik with wide, concerned eyes.  _ “That couldn’t have been Vince, right?” _

“And as he awoke, back on the shores of Lonalulu,” she continues, ignorant of the brimming horror among the oldest members of her audience, “he found that he was never quite the same. He spurned the company of his fiance, spending all day staring out to sea, telling anyone who would listen, ‘I must marry that mermaid.’”

Erik grimaces. “Well, if he could move the ship…” He trails off, not really wanting to think about the possibility. Did Vince really curse Kai to love him? Had they volunteered to help a monster?

Auntie turns the crank one final time, revealing a burning boat on the stage. She continues on: “His longing for the mermaid who stole his soul grew so strong that he stole one of the  _ kahuna’s _ boats, attempting to sail back to the spot where he’d met that terrible mermaid. All the townsfolk could do to save him was to light the boat ablaze and exile him from the town entirely.”

“That’s awful!” Gemma cries, earning more than a few surprised looks from the children around her.

Auntie nods, paying no mind to the age of her most affected audience member. “It was, but it was for his own good. But that’s not where the story ends. For months, Lonalulu was plagued by sea monsters, rotting fish, all sorts of terrible happenings. The  _ kahuna’s  _ daughter married another beloved man from the town, but when her new husband went out hunting for pearls, his boat was destroyed, and they never found him. It was a punishment from the mermaid for refusing to let Kai go to them…”

The crowd gasps, almost in unison.

“Since then, Lonalulu has been free of its curse, but it’s only a matter of time before another sailor meets a terrible fate beneath the waves. And if that happens to you, remember: a second chance at life is certainly not worth bargaining with a mermaid.”

She folds the box in on itself once more, latching it closed as the children applaud and yell, some running from the church with tears in their eyes and horror etched on their faces. Erik glances at his companions, who (judging from their faces) feel similarly to him: confused, somewhat horrified, but admittedly enthralled by Auntie’s storytelling.

“It’s not often that I have older guests for my stories,” she tells them, the box having been returned to wherever she keeps it. “Are you here for the festival?”

_ “Uh, not exactly,”  _ Eleven replies once he’s risen to his feet.  _ “We were sent here looking for K-A-I, but—” _

Auntie looks over the group, a confused look in her eye. “My Kai? I don’t know who would be looking for him outside of our little village…” She directs them into the church, unlatching a door hidden in plain sight behind the altar. “He came through here just a few moments ago. He’s likely in the graveyard, he so often is.”

As Erik passes her, she lays a hand on his shoulder. “Be gentle with him,” she tells him. “Living here has been...hard on him, shall we say.”

Erik opens his mouth to say  _ of fucking course with all that mermaid junk, _ but Hendrik catches his eye, telling him to leave it as they continue their search.

\---

Even during the daylight, the graveyard is gloomy, covered with headstones that probably were placed here before  _ Hendrik _ was born.

“How awful,” Gemma says, kneeling next to a set of headstones. “Brothers who died too young, trying to save their home…”

“The storyteller  _ did  _ say that Lonalulu was cursed,” Hendrik notes, examining the stones as well. “Whether that is Vince’s doing or pure misfortune, however…”

Erik doesn’t really pay either of them much mind, aiming to sort the story out with Kai and get out of this creepy place as soon as possible. And from the looks of it, there’s the man of the hour, sitting by a headstone and staring out to sea.

“Hey, lover boy!” Erik calls, watching Kai’s head slowly perk up as he approaches. Yep,  _ definitely  _ their man, and judging from how slow he’s moving, Erik  _ really _ wouldn’t be surprised if Vince had cursed him after all.

The rest of the group joins him along the shoreline as Kai looks each of them up and down. “Not sure exactly why you’re calling me ‘lover boy,’” he mumbles, his voice a steady, flat tone. “You’re not from the town, so maybe you haven’t noticed, but the folks around here don’t exactly like me.” He sighs. “Fucking mermaids.”

Eleven approaches, cautiously, signing slowly.  _ “I can’t imagine it’s easy, having your life story turned into a fairy tale to scare the kids. But we’re not sure that’s the whole story. Do you mind telling us what happened, in your own words?” _

Kai backs up, nearly falling over the headstone he’s been visiting (guarding?). “Whoa, whoa, hold up.” (Still as flat a tone as before.) “That’s not  _ my _ story. My name’s Kainui. Kainoa was my grandfather. He’s been dead for years.”

“Well,  _ that _ changes things,” Veronica grumbles.

“It’s like they had a problem with me before I was born, because my mother—” he stops himself, seemingly redirecting his train of thought. “Right, she changed that part of the story. Felt it wasn’t best to bring  _ that _ to the town’s attention. But the older folks still know…”

Sylv is the next to join Kai, peering up at him curiously. “Know what, darling?” she asks.

He gives her a curious look (probably wondering why a child is calling him “darling”), but continues on all the same. “It didn’t end with the shipwreck. When they went to the beach here, not long after, they saw my grandfather holding a baby, both of them soaked to the bone.” He pauses a moment, letting the implications of  _ that _ particular incident sink in with his audience. “Mom took the story, made it her own, and she’s doing pretty well with it, all things considered. Most of the town brushes it aside nowadays.”

_ “But you can’t escape where she came from.”  _ There’s a distant look in Eleven’s eyes, again, one that leaves Erik wondering just what his story was before the two of them met.

Kai rolls his eyes. “The story’s shit,” he tells them, though his tone makes it sound more matter-of-fact than upset. “He told Mom that the kahuna’s daughter had offed herself in grief, and that the kid was hers. The mermaid shit is just a bunch of crap the townsfolk made up when the seas got rough. Sure, I get the brunt of it, but it’s fine. I’ll deal.”

Erik would rather not bring this up, would really rather let the whole thing pass and return to Vince without his sweetheart, but something about this whole affair is rubbing him the wrong way. “Uh, so I should probably be honest with you.” The glances the party throws his way are  _ hilarious _ , but definitely not what he should focus on right now. “We were sent here to find your granddad, by a...merman, I guess?”

_ This _ , of all things, seems to prompt one entire emotion out of Kai. Eyes wide and voice wavering, he hisses, “Can it, you  _ just _ heard how much Lonalulu hates merfolk. And you’re telling me you took him at face value?” He turns from them, marching back towards town with a scowl on his face.

“He seemed nice enough,” Gemma mumbles, diverting her eyes out to the sea.

“There is no harm in telling Vince of Kai’s fate,” Hendrik tells them, though it sounds more like a lecture than a suggestion. (Erik’s starting to get the impression that that’s just how Hendrik  _ is.)  _ “I am certain that we can handle one merman.”

“We can lure him onto the shore,” Veronica adds, a grin on her face that makes Erik’s skin crawl as she turns on her heels, headed back to the dock and to the Stallion.

Sylv stops her. “Hold on, darling,” she murmurs, unfurling her staff as it glows with magic Erik doesn’t recognize.

\---

The next time Erik’s eyes open, he finds himself surrounded by sand and sea, next to the stallion and a retching Sylv.

Gemma pats her back, telling her, “Sylv, you know you have to be careful with zoom spells…”

Huh, a zoom spell? So they’re back at the deserted island, then. (Suddenly the expanse of beach around him makes a LOT more sense.)

As if on cue, a splash from the center pool heralds the reappearance of Vince, his orange tail curled around the rock he’s claimed as his perch. “Did you find Kai?” he asks, water magic pulsing under his fingers.

“Sorry, loverboy,” Erik tells him, surreptitiously keeping one hand clenched around his greatsword. “Uh, how long have you been waiting, anyway?”

“Long enough,” Vince replies, tail shimmering with a similar magic as his fingertips. “What did he tell you?”

Eleven casts Erik an uncomfortable look, eyes flitting between him and Vince. Is he getting the same weird vibes Erik is?

_ “He _ didn’t tell us anything. His  _ grandson  _ talked to us instead.” Mia cracks her knuckles, seemingly a nervous habit in any other situation. (Or maybe she’s nervous too…)

Vince scoffs, a strange growl making its way out of his mouth before he quells it, rubbing the back of his neck instead. “Fuck. Forgot how weird human lifespans are, and how stubborn they can be with things they don’t understand. Now that fucking town owes me double.”

“‘Owes you?’” Maybe Lonalulu was onto something after all? “The hell do they owe you for?”

Vince licks his lips, and Erik can just catch a set of sharp, sharp teeth (are those  _ fangs?) _ . “For making me skip my dinner. But, I suppose I can find a new meal... _ you _ should make a fine replacement.” With that, his tail stretches into the water, and the magic glowing on it shimmers in the pond as well as it suddenly spirals into what looks like a small hurricane that covers Vince in a torrent of water. 

“Grab your weapons, I don’t think we’re getting out without a fight!” Erik shouts, unsheathing his greatsword and pointing it at the storm. The rest of the group follows suit, the twins and Hendrik starting spellwork before the words even leave his mouth.

A pair of ice spells weave their way into the water, freezing it slowly until the force of the water breaks it apart entirely, giving way to reveal a squat little sea monster in Vince’s place.

Eleven drops his knives.  _ “Oh, Yggie’s sake. Look at this little guy!” _

Veronica cackles with glee. “Is  _ this _ what he looked like the  _ entire time? _ Goddess above.”

The creature—is it Vince? It’s probably Vince—responds by attempting to drown the party. Not in much of a talking mood, it seems. Fine by Erik, honestly, makes it easier to kick his ass; he’s not in the mood to make his soul anyone’s lunch.

This wall of water, on the other hand, is perfectly penetrable. Hendrik fires a burst of dark magic through it, Mia weaving her way through the path left in its wake to slash at Vince. Following their lead, Gemma whips up a wind spell, holding the water back so the rest of them can dive in.

“Hey,  _ Luminary, _ can’t you fry this guy?” Veronica yells, and Erik pauses his hacking and slashing to charge a bolt of lightning, shoving the group out of the way as he sends the blast into the flood. They watch as the electricity crackles its way towards Vince, and as the water crashes down on the monster, Erik finds himself thankful that he can’t see the result.

All too suddenly, the water runs off into the sea, and all that’s left of Vince is a cloud of purple dust floating into the wind.

“I guess that means no Orb, then,” Erik grumbles.

Eleven pats him on the shoulder.  _ “We’ll get it another way. You’re the Luminary, after all!”  _ As he finishes speaking, he holds out a hand to Erik.

Erik takes it, and Eleven doesn’t let go, not when they board the boat, not when they sail away from this goddessforsaken island, not when they find themselves sinking to the depths of the ocean, not from storms, but from a beautiful song calling the Stallion to meet its singer.

As they find themselves in a glistening city beneath the waves, Eleven grins at him, leading him through the shell-lined streets, and for now, Erik lets his worries float off into the sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I forgot about the canon mermen until the very end and lost my entire shit so I had to. Also, sorry Vince in general! You're a cool dude but I thought it would be fun to make you evil. SPEAKING of making people evil...there is no way to make Seregon's name not stupid, but then again Mordegon is also stupid. (I just want some lady villains, man)
> 
> Okay so confession unless something drastically changes I'm skipping Nautica and Phnom Nonh and basically everything before Sniflheim, because I can't think of how to make it different and/or interesting. Not even Lesbian Dora can save it. I'm sorry. On the bright side this means we're two chapters away from act 2!
> 
> A HUGE thank you to eliza dragonquesttbh for suggesting the Eleanor/Krystalinda swap, I LOVE that.
> 
> NEXT TIME: we head to Sniflheim for our last orb pickup, and surely NOTHING can go wrong.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With five orbs in grasp, Erik and company seek out the final piece of the puzzle from the vision the Rainbough granted them. And why is Eleven acting so weird here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Hi! This chapter contains hints at backstory secrets only revealed in act 2! Tread carefully, loves! <3)
> 
> Yesterday was the anniversary of the very first fic I wrote in this fandom! I'd have liked to get to act 2 in this fic by then, but...well, last week was Hell, to say the least. Oof, forty-eight hour work week.
> 
> ANYWAY, as promised, a skip-ahead to Sniflheim, where things are mostly the same. Mostly. This chapter went on a lot longer than expected...but I suddenly had Tweak Ideas and Erik had to be gay, as always.
> 
> Apparently continuing with my pattern of Weird OC Cameos are the two random soldiers. Monster Squad just, insists on appearing I guess.
> 
> (HUGE thank you to Eliza dragonquesttbh for theorizing about a krystalinda-eleanor swap, and thus speaking it into being. I love this.)

_ “Okay, let’s double check,” _ Eleven tells them, ripping out a page of his journal and scribbling a few words on it as Erik dumps the contents of his bag onto the deck.  _ “Red Orb, stolen from Heliodor, twice.” _

“Yellow Orb, second prize for the tournament,” Mia adds, watching Eleven tick it off his list.

“Green Orb,” Gemma notes, “reward for stopping Vince from eating more souls and giving mermaids a poor reputation.”

Veronica scoffs. “More like a reward for  _ existing.  _ Honestly, Queen Marina would have given us the Orb even if Erik had let Vince eat the town.”

“Silver Orb swiped from a bird’s nest.” Erik ticks that one off himself with a dramatic flourish, choosing to ignore Veronica’s commentary.

Sylv grins, plunking the Purple Orb bag in the bag. “ _ And _ this one, stowed away in Dundrasil!”

_ “So five of them, then. Weren’t there six in the vision?” _ Eleven circles the final spot on the page.

“Each of the Orbs corresponds with a kingdom,” Hendrik notes. “There is one last kingdom we have yet to check.”

Sylv cheers. “Sniflheim! We have to pass through anyway to get back home, so we can grab it while we’re there!”

Erik casts a glance at Eleven, who’s gone rigid at the mere  _ mention  _ of Sniflheim. ”Hey, El, you alright?” he asks, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Eleven jolts at the touch, flailing frantically through his words till he settles into something Erik can actually understand.  _ “Y-yeah, I’m fine, honest! Just been on this boat for too long, you know? I need to stretch my legs a bit.” _

El has never had an issue with sailing before, not escaping from Gondolia—on the contrary, being on the ocean seemed to  _ help— _ not when Queen Marina dragged them underwater, or sailing to Phnom Nohn. He’s covering up for something…

But Dave calls, “Prepare to dock, loves!” and Eleven throws his hood up over his face, and any hope of getting to the bottom of that disappears for the moment. (At the rate this is going, he might not be able to solve  _ that _ mystery until after they defeat Seregon, but he can wait. He’d wait a  _ long _ time for Eleven.)

\---

They really hadn’t expected the gates to be frozen closed, especially in springtime, and Erik metaphorically kicks himself for holding even the slightest hope that this would be easy. After all, the visit-the-king plan had gone to shit immediately, they had to re-steal the Red Orb, Heliodor is waiting for them around every turn, their trip to a tourist trap led to them getting tricked and almost absorbed into a painting by one of Seregon’s goons, and even their  _ beach vacation _ got ruined, even if they had a reason to go there in the first place.

Sylv and Eleven each fire off a frizz, then a sizz, and Veronica and Erik  _ both _ light their swords ablaze for good measure, but no. This ice is just...not melting.

“There is a separate entrance to the side for situations such as this,” Hendrik notes as they spend the night huddled around the flames of a nearby campsite, “but it has always been locked.”

“Are you saying the city gets sealed off with  _ magic ice _ on a regular basis?” Erik replies, but no one else really seems to hear him.

“Don’t we have a key?” Sylv murmurs, tapping her chin in mock-thought. “The one we used in the ruins?”

Mia holds their so-called “magic” key up to the sunlight—wait, when had she gotten that out of his bag? “Oh, yeah, that weird bitch who called Seregon ‘her muse’ or whatever had it. You think this will unlock it?”

_ “Well, it’s opened just about every other door we came across.”  _ Maybe it’s just that Erik can’t see his face, but something about his words feels...off, compared to how he usually speaks. His movements are stilted, restrained compared to his more dynamic signing on most days. Honestly, Erik hasn’t seen him act like this since...well, since Gondolia.  _ “But it’s kinda late as-is, and for all we know, the ice could melt by morning. Can’t we sleep on it first?” _

Before anyone can point out their many failed attempts to melt it on their own, Erik lets out a clearly-exaggerated yarn, and honestly he doesn’t care if everyone else sees through it; considering most of the group fawns over him for  _ existing _ , he figures they’ll probably let it slide. “Yeah, I’m beat. Let’s hit the hay for the night.”

Sylv and Gemma begin setting up the tents before he finishes his first syllable.

He waits until they’re settled, until the chatter from the girls’ tent fades away, faint snores emanating from Hendrik’s tent, to press Eleven on the matter. “Look, El, are you  _ sure _ you’re okay? You’ve been acting weird since you found out we were coming here.”

At first, the only indication Erik gets that El even heard him is a slight up-and-down motion from his hooded head. Erik says nothing more, simply waiting until El caves in, which he inevitably does.  _ “It’s...complicated,”  _ he finally manages.  _ “A lot of weird feelings associated with this place.” _

Erik nods. “I get it. You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.”

El shakes his head.  _ “No, no, it’s not that, I just…”  _ He trails off for a matter of moments.  _ “I promise, I’ll tell you. Someday. Just not now. And, uh, sorry in advance for being weird while we’re here.” _

“No need to say sorry,” Erik mumbles. “Take your time.”

El leans on his shoulder, and it seems his let’s-tackle-this-in-the-morning approach was only  _ slightly _ a fabrication as his breathing slows and he’s overtaken by sleep. Erik, gently, lays him down on one of their makeshift beds, laying across from him and keeping one eye on him until his own body, too, falls into slumber.

\---

The gates are still frozen when they awaken, to no one’s surprise, but at least they’re more rested now. 

Well,  _ most  _ of them are, anyway, judging by Eleven rubbing his eyes from under his hood (whether that’s up to hide from Darkspawn hunters or from whatever bad times he associated with this place is a mystery, at least for now). Erik vaguely remembers waking up to El tossing and turning, as if something was haunting his dreams. Did he get any real sleep at all?

He’s so distracted by this thought, and his overall worry for his oldest (living) friend slash crush slash whatever that he doesn’t entirely process Mia opening the locked door to the side, doesn’t realize he’s walked with them all into the heart of Sniflheim’s supposedly-bustling capital city until he nearly walks into a stunningly-lifelike ice sculpture. As he makes eye contact with another, and spots a third...okay, this is  _ uncanny, _ especially with the streets completely empty. And who would make an ice sculpture of a  _ cow, _ anyway?

“Uh, was Sniflheim like this the last time you were here?” he asks, trying to catch his friends’ attention as they gaze at the statues with what he presumes to be awe. “I mean, these are nice and all, but where are all the townsfolk?”

He feels something bump him on the back of the head, turning to find Veronica with a fan in her hand (why did she pull out one of her performance pieces, anyway?) and a scowl on her face. “Erik, you dolt, these  _ are _ the townsfolk.”

Hendrik nods, scrutinizing a sculpture as he speaks, oblivious to Erik’s dawning horror. “It seems that something came through here and turned the civilians to ice where they stood.”

“It’s true!” A voice calls to them from a location Erik can’t totally pinpoint. 

Eleven rips his daggers from his bag within seconds (goddess, this place really does put him on edge), clutching them tightly even as he almost literally glues himself to Erik’s side. Erik gently, very gently, lays his right hand on El’s left, careful to avoid the edges of his knives; El lets out a shaky breath and Erik feels him loosen his grip on the knife, just slightly.

There’s a lit campfire by one of the houses, the only sign of life in this town that  _ hasn’t  _ been turned to decoration. Eerie, but hey, if even one person got out of this and knows what happened (and how to stop it, if he’s lucky), that’s something!

He approaches the fire, Eleven still on self-appointed stab duty as the rest of his cohort follows behind. A figure looms over it, hunched over and peering at some sort of book, and  _ just  _ as Erik contemplates telling El to shank them and get it over with…

She straightens up, hood falling to her shoulders as she catches a glimpse of the knives and  _ shrieks. _ “Oh, goddess! I thought you were passing heroes, not ruffians! Some queen I turned out to be, after all, between the curse and this…”

“Queen?” Hendrik asks, a frown crossing his face. “You mean to tell me that King Gustaf has passed on?”

She nods. “My father grew ill a year ago and never recovered…” She sniffles a moment, tensing as Hendrik attempts a reassuring shoulder pat. “Um, thank you. I’ve taken the throne after his loss, but I fear I will never be the ruler he once was…”

Mia gapes at her. “Wait.  _ Wait. _ You’re  _ Frys?”  _ She grins. “Whoa. The last time I saw you, you were still half my height!” 

“Um, yes, I am indeed Frysabel.” She furrows her brow, like she’s trying to recall a distant memory…

_ Objectively,  _ the right thing to do is help her with the curse, or whatever it is that turned the townsfolk to ice and froze half the buildings shut for good measure. But what was it the mural girl said, that Seregon was getting ever closer to her resurrection? (Something to that effect, anyway.) Do they really have  _ time _ to deal with the mundane issues of one town (kingdom, whatever) when the whole  _ world _ is at stake? Can’t they get the orb here and come back to fix this mess later? And who’s to say stopping Seregon won’t fix this place anyway?

He’s the Luminary. Every problem cycles back to that, so he can cut off every problem at the source by fulfilling his Yggdrasil-given duty.

“Hey, Mia, we can catch up later,” Erik cuts in, earning himself a scowl. “Frys, was it? We’re looking for an orb, it’s  _ really _ important to our mission. Do you have anything like that in the palace?” 

The rest of the group gapes at him in response, but Frysabel pays them no mind; in fact, she almost seems  _ relieved  _ at the topic shift. “I may,” she mumbles, “but I can’t even get into the castle unless the curse breaks. If you can solve that, then I will see what I can do.”

Damn, of course it isn’t that easy. But that’s fine, it’s nothing he can’t handle, whatever it is. “Alright, start from the beginning, then.”

She idly twirls the end of her ponytail as she speaks: “Sniflheim suffered this terrible fate a week after my coronation. It all happened so fast; one moment everything was peaceful, and the next a  _ witch _ arrived, bringing a terrible winter storm and freezing the whole city…”

Sylv gasps. “And you stayed ice-free, darling?”

Frysabel nods, seemingly growing more confident as they listen to her speak. “She laughed at my inexperience, and told me that watching my kingdom suffer would be far more painful than anything she could do to me herself. But before she left, she gave me this.” She brandishes the same book she had been reading when Erik approached. “The answer to how to break the curse is in this book, somewhere, and I believe I’ve found it. There’s a monster in the nearby woods, acting as her familiar and source of her magical power. Defeating that should melt the ice and end her curse.”

Huh, a monster-killing quest? That seems easy enough, given how much of that he seems to find himself doing on this orb search. “You’ve got yourself a deal,” he tells her, offering his hand with the  _ intent _ to shake on it. She takes it curiously, hands as cold as, well, ice as she ponders it. Has she never seen a handshake before? Goddess, royals are sheltered, he really  _ was _ lucky to grow up in Cobblestone.

“Alright, let’s catch ourselves a familiar,” he says, departing the fire and heading back towards the sole way out of the city, turning back only to find that his friends have opted not to follow him, instead talking amongst themselves, low enough that he can’t hear. “Uh, guys?” he calls to them. “We have a familiar to fight?”

Sylv marches over to him, her hands on her hips. “_Darling.” _(And, oh boy, the vitriol in that single word sure is apparent.) “I am aware we promised to stay by your side, but I refuse to let you just _pass by_ anyone in need!” The frown on her face is genuinely scary; Erik has _never_ seen her this mad. He opens his mouth to argue his case, but she holds a hand in the air and talks on anyway. “No. I don’t care. We are supposed to be heroes, and heroes don’t leave people to suffer! Seregon waited _this_ long, she can wait a few more days.”

Erik waves her off. “It worked out in the end, right? No need to  _ dwell _ on it.”

She frowns, but relents, letting out a clearly-exasperated sigh as the rest of the group joins them.

\---

_ “Hey, Erik, do those knights look familiar to you?”  _ Eleven asks as they make their way through the Hekswood (ugh, what an awful name), eyeing a group of soldiers that, now that Erik’s examining them, look very familiar indeed. Heliodor,  _ here?  _ Had Frysabel recruited them, too?

He flips his hood over his head, taking cover behind a tree as he listens to a few soldiers gripe about...something or other.

“D-did we  _ really  _ have to come here? What is Sir Chalky  _ thinking?” _ one asks, his stammer born either from the cold or from general nerves. Erik can’t tell which.

The other shushes him, a finger to her armor right over where her mouth would be. “Shut  _ up, _ Gos, you don’t wanna get extra drills, do ya?! ‘Sides, as much as I hate the cold, I’m not leavin’ Sniflheim to suffer like that. We just gotta find that familiar, or whatever the queen said.”

Ah, great, they’re here on the same stupid mission. Wonderful.

Erik turns to the group, motioning onward as Veronica sighs, casting a glamour on the party before they march on.

The deeper into this labyrinth of a forest they go, the colder it gets, the more the snow coats their vision. El casts a small fire spell, flames dancing between his fingertips in an attempt to keep himself warm; Sylv follows his lead, the two sharing what they can with the rest of their group. The girls stick close together, talking amongst themselves as Erik, El and Hendrik walk on in silence.

Erik squints as the snow builds up around him, the cold biting at his face. The girls’ whispering grows quieter the further he goes, until they stop entirely. Too cold to keep talking, he figures…

Until he turns around and discovers he is entirely alone. The rest of his friends are somewhere beyond this curtain of snow...will he have to fight this monster on his own?

He stumbles his way through what’s left of the forest, praying he’ll hear roaring or sizzling or  _ something _ indicating that his friends have found their prey, before smacking into what feels like a wall. Blinking his eyes open, he discovers, no, not a wall, but a person. A heavily-armored person...oh. Great. Hello, Sir Chalky.

Either Sir Chalky is  _ completely  _ oblivious, or Veronica’s glamour has held up far better than Erik had expected, because the knight doesn’t even bat an eye at him. “Hm. I suppose you’re another would-be hero, then?” he begins, stern as ever. Erik doesn’t even get the  _ chance _ to get in a word edgewise before Chalky slaps him on the back (ow), chuckling to himself. “Best stick with me then, eh?”

Erik’s jaw drops. Sir Chalky is so... _ different _ when he’s not Darkspawn-hunting. He’s not sure whether he should be glad or terrified, honestly.

“I know, lad, it’s a bit of a shock to talk to me. I hear that a lot, to tell the truth.” Chalky turns, staring into the snow ahead. “Come. We ought to dispatch that monster before the cold gets much worse.”

Erik nods, coughing as he lowers his voice, just in case Chalky heard enough out of him before to realize just who he was working with. “Yes, let’s.”

\---

At last, they meet their quarry. The beast roars, and Erik feels the ground shake under his feet. Yikes.

Chalky stands firm, however, grasping an axe larger than Erik’s head. “Once this fight has ended, the storm should calm, and the townsfolk should thaw. Don’t hold back!”

Erik nods. No lightning in this battle, he’s not blowing his cover...that makes this fight a  _ bit _ harder, but hey, he’s plenty strong outside of that magic. Probably best not to use the greatsword either, ugh. But what other options does he have?

One of Eleven’s boomerangs, tucked into his bag. How hard can it be to throw one of these, anyway? He gives it an experimental toss, watching it whizz towards the familiar...and veer sharply left just short of its target, whizzing back to his hand. Great.

Chalky snickers as he charges forward, burying his axe in the beast’s shoulder. Erik can’t let himself get shown up, even in disguise like this…

He tightens his grip on the boomerang, focusing as hard as he can, channeling a bit of his sigil magic into the weapon as he tosses it through the air, bursting into flames  _ just _ before it connects.

_ Clearly _ fire is the key here, which he supposes makes sense given that they  _ are _ facing off against an ice witch’s pet. The beast lets out another roar, pain-tinged but still horrendous and ground-shaking. Chalky takes the opportunity to strike once more, and the monster doesn’t roar so much as  _ shriek _ as it falls, fading to dust at last.

The snowstorm brewing around them slows, calming at last now that the witch’s power is diminished. He can finally make out six forms, his friends in their disguises rushing towards him. 

“Erik, there you are!” Gemma’s voice bounces off the trees, almost echoing in the empty clearing that once housed their foe.

Or, he thinks as he watches the gears in Chalky’s head turn and turn, perhaps it does once more.

This time, as Chalky draws his axe, he points it directly at Erik.  _ “Darkspawn,”  _ he growls, all traces of friendliness gone from his demeanor. “You put the witch up to this, then? Had her freeze over the city due to some wicked whim of yours?”

Erik scoffs. “Yeah, right, and I killed her familiar for fun?”

A wild wind whips around them and Erik wraps his jacket tighter around himself as a storm seems to form from the spot the familiar fell. That makes no sense, unless it’s just some sort of magic release thing?

Chalky tries to swing at him while he’s distracted, but he almost...freezes in place. Heh, freezes. Is the cold getting to the  _ famous  _ Sir Chalky that badly?

Erik tries to taunt him, but he can’t really move his lips. Or his feet, which are growing colder by the second...he finally manages to cast a glance down and gets a great look at his feet, growing slowly encased in ice.

A voice lilts down from above the trees, soft but teasing and...almost familiar. “Oh, dear. I wish I could say the boy hired me, but unfortunately for both of you, my employer is affiliated with...other powers.” The speaker—the witch, obviously—floats down towards them, looking decidedly less witchy than Erik had expected; aside from the pale blue skin and the ice crystals suspended in her hair, she looks almost human. “That said,” she continues, toying with the chain of some sort of necklace, “it’s awfully convenient of you  _ both  _ to come here. He’ll be  _ so _ delighted to get statues of you!”

How was she even...they killed her damn familiar, why does she still have power over the snow?!

Chalky struggles against the ice keeping him stuck in place. “How are you still casting—” He stops, staring straight at the witch. After a moment’s pause, he asks, “Where did you get that pendant?”

“Oh, this?” she says, floating closer to him as she clutches the pendant. “A bit of insurance from the man who set me free, that’s all. And...oh, you have one of your own? How  _ lovely _ .”

Chalky gasps, though Erik has no clue whether it’s from the fact that Witch Bitch here has a matching necklace or simply the ice creeping closer to his torso. Ugh, this is going to be such an  _ embarrassing _ way for them both to die. In his next life, Veronica’s reincarnation is going to remember somehow, find him, and make fun of him for  _ years. _

Or, she would, if a stray fireball hadn’t smacked Witch Bitch right in the face. With her focus broken, the ice around Erik’s legs stops growing, though it’s certainly not  _ gone. _ A start, at least.

Another fire spell carefully melts the ice around Chalky’s legs, because apparently  _ Chalky _ is the priority here and not the  _ goddamned Luminary, _ and Erik watches him nearly faceplant into the snow. Almost makes this worth it; at least if he dies here he’ll be satisfied with that image.

Chalky eyes him, and Erik closes his eyes, waiting for the knight to strike him down...but the blow never comes, and he can only hear the heavy thumps of his footsteps. Blinking the world around him back into existence, Erik looks towards him, but Chalky seems to care little for him now. Weird.

The ice around his feet  _ finally _ disappears, and he can only muster enough brainpower to think  _ thank Yggdrasil, good fucking goddess _ before he  _ actually _ faceplants into the snow.

\---

He wakes up to a  _ very _ unfamiliar face right in front of him.

“Oh, my apologies!” the stranger tells him, backing up as Erik sits up. “Your companions asked me to keep an eye on you while they were fetching supplies from the forest. They told me that, once you awaken, you are heading to the library, because they apparently can’t trust you to choose where they’re going.”

Wonderful. Some friends  _ they’re  _ being. But Erik can deal with  _ that _ shit later. “Uh, who are you, and where the fuck am I?” Erik asks, rubbing his head. Ugh, what happened?

“I am Snorri, and I own this cabin.” Snorri glances towards the door, where Erik can hear faint sounds of chatter outside. “I was told you passed out in the snow?”

Fuck. That’s right. Witch Bitch, Chalky, all that stupid business. Not his finest moment. “Ugh, unfortunately.” And now this stranger can judge him for making a fool of himself.

“Erik.” Hendrik’s voice rouses him from his embarrassment-fueled train of thought as the rest of his group enter the (suddenly way too crowded) cabin. “To be entirely honest, we were worried you would not wake.”

Erik would  _ love _ to call his bluff, but his voice sounds entirely too serious, and even through the formality in his words, Erik can hear that he was genuinely worried. Nice of him (though, of course, that  _ is _ his grandfather, he guesses), but he couldn’t have been that bad off, right?

The force of someone slamming into him at top speed, apparently, says otherwise.  _ Whoever  _ that is squeezes him tight, like they thought he was  _ dead _ or something, before pulling away enough to speak—oh, it’s Eleven, then, Erik realizes, even before he gets a good look at his panicking face.  _ “You passed out, you were  _ freezing _ , and you don’t wanna be out in the snow too long, you know, you stop feeling it and then you fall asleep and you don’t wake up,”  _ he prattles on, words melting into each other, an unintelligible mush of signs. Well,  _ that’s  _ a sign and a half that he was in actual danger.

“Um, Erik,” Gemma mumbles, “we were hoping to go to the library. Maybe something there can tell us why killing the witch’s familiar didn’t work?”

Erik shrugs. “Sounds like a plan...though from what  _ I  _ heard, this is happening whether I want it to or not.” He folds his arms over his chest as he eyes his friends.

Snorri visibly gulps at having been ratted out.

“It works out fine,” Mia grumbles, “we still need to melt the ice before we can even  _ hope _ of getting this Orb. Best shot’s the library.” She marches out of the cabin, the twins shrugging as they follow.

Oh, Erik is in for a hell of a trip, isn’t he.

\---

“Any luck?” Erik asks, checking yet another bookshelf in the vain hope of finding  _ anything  _ connected with this witch. So far, the trip to the library has been a bust, with the only thing they found being a few forging blueprints, a few useless books (who  _ cares _ how old Yggdrasil is, and the idea of anything cutting her down is laughable), and a slew of monsters that, at least, don't’ put up much of a fight.

Sylv pointedly ignores him as she browses the lower shelves. Is she seriously still mad at him for yesterday? (Or...however many days has it been, anyway? Honestly, Erik doesn’t know how long he was passed out…) Mia and Veronica toss a few books aside after a quick look, adding to the already-uncomfortably-large pile as Snorri scrambles to put them back on the shelves. Gemma sighs as she reshelves yet another unhelpful book.

_ “Doesn’t look like it,”  _ Eleven replies in between scribbling something in that journal he’s always carrying around, slamming it shut as Erik approaches. _ “Not complaining about new weapons, but we’ve checked just about everywhere! Unless there’s something we haven’t—” _

_ Something  _ starts grinding in the walls, and Erik watches a set of bookshelves part, next to a sheepish Hendrik, one hand half-clutching a book still attached to the bookshelf with one hand and trying desperately to hide something colorful behind his back with the other.

As Mia takes a step closer, she wrinkles her nose, spitting out, “Ugh, Gramps, are you  _ seriously  _ still reading those porno mags?”

“I only read them for the articles,” Hendrik tells them as they pass by into the hidden room, Veronica covering Sylv’s eyes as she protests that she’s not, actually, a child.

Snorri rushes towards the desk in the center and, more specifically, a book lying open on top of it. He peruses the contents briefly, skimming through the pages before he drops the book back down. “Pardon me, Erik, but would you mind looking at this?”

Erik approaches, cautiously, examining the image printed on the pages. The monster looking back at him certainly looks familiar…”You mean the thing I fought in the Hekswood? The witch’s familiar or whatever?” he asks, watching Snorri’s face pale. He reads the paragraph next to the image: “‘The witch’s power was sealed in—’”

Oh no. He’s been duped, hasn’t he?

“As I feared; you felled the monster keeping the witch’s power at bay. If she’s not stopped, she could very well freeze all of Erdrea…” Snorri trails off, snatching the book from Erik’s hands as he searches for a solution. “She was initially sealed in a book, it says.”

Sylv gasps. “Didn’t Frysabel have a book on her?”

“Ugh, no  _ wonder _ she seemed so weird when we met again,” Mia grumbles, turning on her feet to leave. “Probably that witch in disguise…” She storms out of the sanctum, and Erik watches her scale the steps back to the entrance.

“You know we can just Evac, right?” Erik calls after her, earning another groan in response.

\---

“Alright,  _ witch.”  _ Mia jabs a finger at Frysabel—or Witch Bitch in disguise, Erik presumes—before she even has the chance to greet them. “We know who you are  _ and _ that you tricked us into doing your dirty work.” 

_ Whoever’s _ on the receiving end of Mia’s tongue-lashing shakes her head frantically as her free hand toys with the edge of her scarf. “Oh, no, I never  _ tricked _ you! I was simply following the clues in the book...oh, I’ve really screwed up this time, haven’t I?” Either this really is Frysabel or Witch Bitch should really consider a stage career, because she genuinely looks as though she’s about to cry...

Sylv stands on her tiptoes, frowning as she looks Frysabel over. “Hmm...Gemmy, darling, do you mind casting a bit of a breeze? We might be able to cut into the ice with a spell or two…”

“Hmm?” Gemma glances at her twin, a question forming on her face. “If fire magic can’t melt it at all, then wind probably won’t work at all…”

Before any incantations have even  _ begun,  _ Erik catches Frysabel clutching the scarf tighter, keeping it wound around her neck.  _ That _ sure is fishy.

Gemma casts her spell, and in the blink of an eye Veronica boosts Sylv to the level of Frysabel’s shoulders; while the queen is distracted by the spell, Sylv snatches the scarf from under her fingertips, revealing a nasty burn scar hidden underneath. As the group gapes, Eleven even applauding them for their efforts, Sylv informs them, “Veronica’s been training me for the circus! Right?”

Veronica nods. “She’s got a hell of a knack for it, if I’m being honest.” She glances at Frysabel, or, rather, the witch posing as her. “And speaking of honesty,” she growls, “I think you’d better ‘fess up.”

Witch Bitch sighs, changing from her disguise to her true form under cover of snow. “Alright, so you’ve solved  _ this _ particular mystery. But if you want my spell to end,” she tells them, tossing her book to the side, “you will have to defeat me first...if you can even stand up to me, that is.” She grins, her fingers glowing with magic. “Or will you  _ freeze _ in the face of a fight?”

Great, she’s kicking things off with a pun. Wonderful.

Ice, ice...well, same as the familiar—whatever it’s called. Jörmun, Snorri said, Erik thinks? Whatever. Anyway, fire’s the name of the game here, he figures, and even if he wasn’t free to use his lightning or his sigils, he has his friends by his side, able to fry her.

“No, no,” she taunts, floating above one of Eleven’s mistargeted fireballs, “why not  _ cool down _ a little?” With a wave of her hands, she casts something on him, and Erik watches as Eleven’s body becomes entirely encased in snow.

She laughs as he snarls at her, feeling the same strange magic from their battle with Sir Robert in Gondolia building up in him once more. “What in the world is the matter,  _ loverboy? _ Your  _ boyfriend _ certainly isn’t dead, simply...unable to move, for now.”

Erik can hear Veronica cackling behind him, and perhaps he should be worried about Eleven hearing that and jumping to entirely right conclusions, but the magic takes hold of him and all that suddenly flies from his mind. Witch Bitch hurt one of his friends, hurt  _ his Eleven _ , and she’s gonna fucking pay for that.

He mindlessly smashes his greatsword into her shoulder, and she shrieks as her hold on her magic breaks once more. One more crash of his sword onto her, and she looks even more winded—

He feels something pulling on him, reining him in, and as he looks over his shoulder he spots Gemma and a somehow-freed Eleven, magic leaking from their hands. Is this what Gemma was talking about after Gondolia, a way to keep his magic-fueled rage in check? (Why are Eleven’s hands shaking?)

Well, he’s not going to question it when there’s a witch to fight, is he? No, no: he channels his lightning into his blade, swinging it at Witch Bitch as Sylv and Eleven cast twin fireballs, and at last, she’s felled.

Snorri steps forward, grabbing the discarded book and reciting a spell; with a gust of wind and snow, she is drawn in and vanishes. With another bright light, the ice around the city melts, people thaw, and the true Frysabel returns to Sniflheim’s streets.

“Oh, goodness,” she murmurs, rubbing her eyes, “whatever happened while I was bound to the book?” She glances at the group, gasping as her eyes land on Mia. “Oh! It’s been so long…”

Mia grins. “Good to see you again, for real, Frys.”

Something about this whole thing sets Erik on edge, but he can’t wait to get out of here with the final orb in hand. Maybe just nerves...nah, he’s the Luminary, who needs nerves? He can take on anything the world throws his way.

“Uh, hey, Queen Frysabel,” he says, taking extra care to be courteous, “do you have an orb in your stash of royal treasures? We, uh, really need it.”

Sylv sighs, terribly loud, but both Erik and Frysabel ignore it. “Oh, I can check. Just follow me,” Frysabel tells them, leading them into the now-unfrozen castle.

“There certainly is an orb to be found,” Hendrik tells them as they walk. “I know not why the queen is being so coy about it…”

Snorri nods in agreement. “There certainly is something strange about all this…”

Erik lets them pull ahead as he claps Eleven on the shoulder. “Hey, partner, you, uh, doin’ okay? I don’t imagine turning into a snowman is that pleasant, on top of all your other...issues with this place, I guess.”

Eleven startles the moment Erik’s hand makes contact with him, fist clasped over his heart, only really settling when he gets a good look at Erik’s face. (Or, at least, Erik presumes he’s looking at him, given that Eleven’s hood is obscuring his face.)  _ “Oh, uh, yeah, I’m as okay as I’m ever gonna be here. Honest. Could do without the snow thing, though.”  _ He pauses, as though he’s trying to formulate his next words. Which means he’s not okay, and he doesn’t want to talk about it.  _ “Couldn’t see, couldn’t hear, couldn’t—well, I guess I already can’t really speak.”  _

It’s clearly supposed to be a joke, but he’s not laughing, Erik doesn’t need a look at his face to tell. And even though Erik is honestly glad Eleven didn’t hear Witch Bitch’s taunts, he can’t even bring himself to feel relieved at that. But what can he do, really, at least until Eleven’s okay to talk about whatever haunts him here?

He reaches out, grasps El’s hand and squeezes, and feels a light squeeze back.

\---

“If it is anywhere, I suspect it would be in the basement,” Frysabel notes, throwing open the doors to the throne room. “Allow me to search for—”

Another Frysabel awaits beyond the doors. “Oh, Chillanor? I need just a little more time, would you be able to keep the spell going?”

Erik would  _ love  _ to articulate how frustrated that entire sentence makes him feel, but words fail him.  _ Chillanor? _ Is that Witch Bitch’s name? Is she fucking  _ kidding  _ him? How did she even break out of the book, anyway?

Instead, he simply stands there, slack-jawed, silent, eyes flitting between the two queens as the Frysabel who led him in steadily turns red in the face, nose wrinkled in disgust.

She sighs. “I suppose I should give up this charade, then…” In another flash of light and ice, Witch Bitch—no,  _ Chillanor, _ because her parents apparently hated her—returns to her true form. The party brandishes their weapons, but Chillanor holds up her hands. “I am no longer a threat to you, I promise. The last of my magic was spent freeing myself from the book and keeping up my disguise...well, the last of it for now, anyway. I know not whether it’ll return with time…”

“Uh, so, do you mind telling us what the  _ fuck _ is up, Frys?” Mia asks, hands on her hips.

Frysabel’s face burns red. “W-well, when my father passed on, I felt I wasn’t quite ready to rule...so when I found Chillanor’s book in the library as I studied for my coronation—”

The witch cuts her off, gently, “Please, don’t call me that, it’s  _ abhorrent _ . Eleanor will suffice, perhaps?”

Erik mutters, “Thank the fucking goddess.” Even under Eleven’s hood, he can almost catch a glint in his eye and a silent giggle when he looks at his friends. And, much to his surprise, even  _ Eleanor _ looks amused.

“Y-yes, anyway,” Frys continues, “I freed her from her book and asked her to freeze the kingdom, until I felt I had studied enough and become confident enough to properly take the throne.”

“That is entirely reprehensible,” Hendrik informs her, and Erik watches her wince in response. “Surely there are others who could have aided you while you grew accustomed to your newfound royal duties? The scholar here, for example…”

Eleanor holds out a hand. “Please don’t be too hard on the poor dear. The whole scheme was my suggestion, if we are being perfectly honest, and I tried  _ very _ hard to talk her into it.”

“And the whole ‘turning us into statues’ bit?” Erik asks, gritting his teeth. “Am I supposed to just forgive the queen for hiring you to  _ freeze me?” _

Frys frowns, a question forming on her lips, but Eleanor answers instead. “Oh,  _ goodness  _ no. I was simply doing the queen a favor; my  _ employer  _ was a gentleman who had passed through my woods. He offered me a seat of great power in exchange for freezing Sir Chalky of Heliodor...and the Darkspawn, if the chance ever arrived.” She tilts her head, trying to recall who he was. “A strange fellow, brilliant white armor—”

Great. Sir Robert,  _ again. _ But why is he turning on Chalky?

Mia cuts off the conversation entirely, walking over to Frysabel. “Gramps, I agree with Eleanor, don’t be too harsh. Honestly, Frys? You’ll be _ fine, _ I’m sure of it. Even when we were kids, you doubted yourself too much.” She pats her on the shoulder.

Frys sighs. “Perhaps you’re right...so long as my people don’t find out what I’ve done.”

Snorri hums lightly, as though he’s deliberating  _ something,  _ before he nods. “I’ll keep this quiet.”

Honestly, Erik feels like  _ both _ of them are getting off too easily, but this is a fight he really doesn’t want, truth be told. He simply waits as Frysabel, Snorri and Eleanor debate something amongst themselves.

Eleanor glances at Team Luminary for a moment, and then pulls herself away from the conversation. “Oh, I suppose I did promise you an orb, yes? Even if I was in disguise at the time…” She vanishes into the lower levels of the castle, emerging later with a shimmering orb, just like the ones they’d collected before. “A promise is a promise. I may have been a witch, but I’m not  _ entirely _ without morals.”

Again, Erik disagrees, but, as he holds the Blue Orb in his hand, he figures he got what he came here for. He probably shouldn’t question it. 

“The full set,” Sylv notes, checking off the final entry on Eleven’s checklist. “Next stop, home…”

She seems decidedly less happy about this than Erik would have expected. Probably still mad at him for trying to get out of helping Frysabel, if he had to guess. (But he’d been right, right? The whole issue would have resolved itself even if they  _ hadn’t  _ showed up to stop it.)

“Honestly,” Veronica chimes in, “I’ll be glad to leave. The cold’s never been kind to me.” She shudders, clearly dramatizing her discomfort.

“So what are we waiting for?” Erik pivots on his feet, leading the charge out of the castle. “To Arboria!”

Gemma giggles. “To Yggdrasil!”

“To destiny,” Sylv mumbles, and as the Sniflheimians say their fondest farewells, Team Luminary embarks for what Erik hopes is their final stop on this grand quest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miiiinor concerns about Frys and Eleanor being given way too much leniency given the ethical concerns behind willingly freezing a kingdom, but hey, Team Luminary has bigger fish to fry.
> 
> IDEALLY next chapter is gonna be quicker getting out, considering it's mostly a breather. Mostly. >:3 I am SO hype for what's coming next, y'all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All six orbs in hand, the group finally reaches Arboria...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE SECOND HALF OF THE GAME, INCLUDING A SPOILER FOR THE ACT 2 LOCATION OF A PARTY MEMBER. TREAD WITH UTMOST CAUTION. (Additionally, see end note for potential content warnings that I could not list in tags due to spoilers.)
> 
> No funny opening notes today. Straight to the point. We know how this ends.

The change in Eleven is clear to Erik as soon as they spot the mountainside; the hood comes down, his eyes light up, and he’s laughing along with the group’s jokes as if nothing had ever happened.  _ Whatever the fuck _ had made Eleven wary the moment they set foot in Sniflheim had to be a pretty big deal if he doesn’t want to talk about it yet, if even  _ Veronica _ wouldn’t make him a target for her jokes, so it’s a relief the moment that weight seems to slip off his shoulders. (That said, Erik will easily admit that he’d be hurt if Eleven told Veronica about it, though that’s less about Erik than it is about his light-hearted war with her.)

Speaking of weights on shoulders...there’s no sign of Arboria, not yet, but Erik’s Mystery Destiny is making itself more and more present in his mind with every step. And sure, he can handle it—he’s still the Luminary, after all, and he doubts Yggdrasil, benevolent deity that She is, would simply choose a lamb for the metaphorical slaughter—but the  _ question _ of it, the fact that there’s little he knows beyond “take the orbs to the altar” is a little unnerving, to tell the truth.

“Alright, Mister Fireball,” Veronica snarks, drawing Erik out of his thoughts, “are you  _ sure _ that it’s safe to be so open about your identity? Might I remind you that there are two knights of Heliodor that still want your head?” She pauses. “Well, perhaps all of our heads, at this point.”

Eleven just grins in response as his hands explain him.  _ “Sir Chalky  _ clearly _ doesn’t care about us anymore, considering he could have grabbed us all back in the forest, and apparently Sir Robert is too focused on killing  _ him.  _ It’s safe to say Heliodor is sufficiently distracted.”  _ He rolls his eyes.  _ “Besides, I doubt the twins’ town would turn us in, anyway.” _

Gemma nods, pointing over the mountaintops. “Arboria has been on the Luminary’s side since the very beginning! Even when the Darkspawn malarkey started spreading, we always ignored it. We’d know, after all; our founder was one of Drustan’s companions!” She pauses, giggling. “Well,  _ more _ than just a companion, I’d say…”

Sylv stays strangely silent, letting her sister speak for her as Gemma regales them all with tales of their hometown, pausing only for the occasional battle. As one psyche gets better, another gets worse, it seems…

He’d question her on it, gently, of course, but Eleven glues himself to Erik’s side, and honestly, he wants to make sure his partner is okay first. Sylv has Gemma, and Veronica, and even Mia; as far as Erik can tell, Eleven doesn’t really have  _ anyone. _

_ “Hey, uh,”  _ Eleven begins, more sheepish than Erik’s seen him since...probably since Gondolia, honestly.  _ “I’m, uh, sorry, again, for being weird in Sniflheim.” _

Erik shrugs. “Hey, don’t sweat it. We all have our hang-ups.”

Eleven fidgets with a sleeve for an instant, and Erik  _ immediately _ regrets that turn of phrase.  _ “Uh, wouldn’t exactly call it a ‘hang-up,’ but semantics and all. Like I said before, it’s complicated. And then you almost  _ died, _ and…”  _ He pauses, rubbing at his eyes, which look a lot wetter than Erik had expected.

Oh, is  _ that _ what’s got Eleven so worked up? Honestly, he’s pretty flattered, if a little disappointed in himself for letting himself get so bad off in the first place.

Erik wraps an arm around his shoulders and can _feel _El’s thoughts skid to a stop. “El, I’m the _Luminary,” _he tells him. “A little snow isn’t gonna take me down, trust me.”

Eleven wrinkles his nose at that, as if the words leave a bad taste in his mouth, but he says nothing else, and doesn’t wriggle his way out of Erik’s hold, actually kind of  _ leaning into _ it. That’s weird. Erik’s gotta be imagining things. Fucking Gay Idiot Brain.

“Alright, lovebirds, quit it,” Mia chides, a teasing tone laced into her words. “If we get jumped by a monster and either of you die because you were cuddling instead of watching the surroundings, I’m gonna make fun of you while Gemma revives you.”

Erik drops his arm immediately, watching El’s face turn red as he’s sure his own face burns the same color. Oh, this is the end. This is where Eleven punches him for trying to make it Like That instead of their planned platonic adventures. But no, actually; Eleven just walks ahead of him, catching up to the twins, suddenly  _ very _ interested in all the Arboria talk.

Mia blinks at him. “Whoops. Kinda figured...well, you know. The two of you stick together a  _ lot. _ ”

Erik sighs. “Part and parcel of breaking out of jail together. I helped him get his orb back—” okay, so now Erik has the orb now, but like El said earlier, semantics. “And he was the only person there when I found my family…” He trails off,  _ painfully _ aware of how shit it sounds to talk to his  _ biological sister _ about the loss of his adoptive family.

She nods, a knowing look behind her eyes. “I getcha. Gramps and I met a  _ lot _ of people we came to consider family. If any of them had kicked the bucket, I dunno what I would’ve done.” After a moment’s pause, she continues on. “Well, uh, it’s different for you, I guess, cause they raised you and all.” The look in her eyes shifts entirely, to one Erik can’t quite identify.

Oh well. They have plenty of time to get to the root of that, too.

\---

“We can’t be climbing  _ that _ much longer, can we?” Veronica asks, leaning on Mia as the group stops for a moment beside the trail. “I can’t even remember the last camp we saw…”

Sylv stands on her tiptoes, a hand shielding her eyes from the burning sunshine as she searches for...something. “It shouldn’t be too far off,” she mumbles, motioning for Gemma to join her. 

Gemma lifts her onto her shoulders, muttering something about Sylv's normal height as they continue their visual search. Suddenly, they both gasp, pointing at a spot on the horizon in unison. “Just over that hill,” Gemma tells them, allowing Hendrik to pick her twin up and return her to the ground. “Only a bit more to go!”

Veronica huffs, but continues on with little more complaint. (Hendrik, too, takes a brief moment to lament his aching limbs.)

Sure enough, just a bit more climbing, a few more steps, just a few more heal spells to keep Hendrik going—well, keep them all going, really—but soon Arboria lies in their sights, stonework gleaming in the sunlight. Erik can see a grand statue looking down on them from a nearby mountain, arms spread wide as though the person depicted is holding the town in their protective embrace. Charming, if a tad creepy.

Truth be told, it’s almost as creepy as the fact that the  _ entire town _ seems to have gathered in the plaza. Have they been awaiting his arrival all this time? (Yikes. Maybe Eleven was right when he said the twins’ weird speech was “cult shit.”)

Sylv holds a finger to her lips, Gemma echoing her in turn, and the party makes their way into the town proper, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Erik watches  _ whatever’s _ going on in the town square, listens to an old guy in the center ramble on about Yggdrasil—wait, shit, that guy’s probably a priest. Is Erik immune to eternal punishment by virtue of being Yggdrasil’s chosen? Well, he’s not exactly raring to find out, so he hastily corrects his internal monologue: he  _ listens intently _ as the priest murmurs a blessing over the child he holds.

Not that any of this has much meaning to him, anyway; Cobblestone wasn’t the most focused on Yggdrasil, honestly. A lot of the spiritual side of his hometown culture revolves—well, revolved, past tense now—around the Spirit of the Land, which he supposes makes sense given his neighbors’ status as farmers and fisherfolk. Honestly, this whole whatever-it-is is just nonsense to him.

The priest’s blessing concludes, and he opens his eyes, seemingly spotting Erik just as he turns to return the child to its parents. The baby is delivered, and all-too-suddenly Erik finds his personal space invaded.

“Hello, Benedictus,” Sylv mumbles, surprisingly sheepish. (But, then again, she’s seemed out of it since this leg of their journey began.)

Gemma, in contrast, _ beams.  _ “We’re back, and we brought the Luminary with us!”

The priest—Benedictus, right—chuckles as the crowd around them bursts into whispers at the mere presence of their Luminary. “So I see...though I must ask, Sylvia, weren’t you taller when last we met?”

She waves it off. “It’s a  _ long _ story, and I doubt you want to sit through it. Besides, we have more important matters to deal with, right, darling?” She nudges Erik.

Oh, right, Rainbough. With a clatter of stone on stone, Erik dumps the contents of his bag onto the plaza, orbs bouncing off each other and conveniently avoiding the Rainbough as they hit the ground.

Veronica sighs as she watches him scramble to collect them.  _ “Very _ elegant, Erik.”

He ignores her, as usual. “There  _ should _ be an altar around here that we can use to get to Yggdrasil.”

Benedictus nods passively, as though he’s heard all this before. (That said, he looks old enough to have been around when Drustan stopped the  _ last _ world-ending threat, so perhaps he really  _ has _ heard it all before.) “Ah, yes, Yggdrasil has shown me that in my slumbers. But before you head out, I must explain the purpose of your quest. And before  _ that…” _ He gestures to the crowd around him. “Well, I’m sure the townsfolk would love to spend some time with our savior.”

Erik can’t really disagree with  _ that _ notion.

\---

_ “Tired of getting fawned over already?”  _ Eleven asks, tearing his eyes and hands away from the book he’s reading as Erik enters the high priest’s house. He rolls his eyes.  _ “This place is...uh, something, that’s for sure.” _

Erik laughs, leaning over Eleven’s shoulder to examine whatever’s caught his attention. “Nah, I’m just getting started! Just figured I’d pop in to see what you’re up to.” He  _ tries _ to read along, but his eyes start glazing over after only a few sentences.”Uh...what  _ are _ you up to?”

Eleven laughs.  _ “There’ve been a couple books lyin’ around wherever we went; some guy went looking for the Rainbough, like we were, and wrote down his whole quest in a set of journals. Looks like he found it here, but gave it up in favor of more adventures…” _ He turns the page, skims a bit, and, suddenly, nearly drops the book entirely.  _ “Erik. Erik, look,”  _ he says, pointing at the journal’s final lines.

**With my quest completed, and a new one begun, I see no reason to hide my identity on this particular adventure any longer: I am Jasper of Cobblestone, and someday, my name will be known all across Erdrea.**

Erik tries as hard as he can to hold back the tears that threaten to cloud his vision. There’s something...well, Serena would call it romantic, in a sense, following in his Granddad’s footsteps. Okay, okay, time to change the subject  _ immediately.  _ “So, uh, what were you saying about this place?”

Eleven reshelves the book before he answers.  _ “Well, like, everything. The way they talk about you, for one thing. Like you’re barely a person.” _

Erik furrows his brow. “Well, I  _ am _ a hero, after all. Makes sense to me.”

_ “You’re a  _ person  _ before you’re a hero. But here, just listening to them all...you’re more like a trophy, or something, as far as they’re concerned. Someone for Sylv and Gemma to fight over.”  _ His hands shake, but not from nerves, Erik can tell; no, he looks  _ pissed. “And  _ speaking _ of the twins, ugh, the way they treat those two is  _ worse. _ Sylv’s their resident prodigy, she might as well be a trophy too. And Gemma…”  _ He sighs.  _ “She’s a disappointment, as far as they’re concerned.” _

Erik had heard the whispers in  _ that _ regard. One of these days, he’s gonna give them hell for it...but not now, not when Benedictus still has to give him some direction. He needs to face Seregon with as much info as possible, and he’s not sure that’s an option if he makes enemies out of the entire town.

“Ready to head out, partner?” He holds out a hand to Eleven, who takes it, pulling himself to his feet. Together, they make their way to the cathedral.

\---

There’s a strange solemnity surrounding the twins, and Erik’s pretty sure it’s not  _ just _ the religious aspect. Beyond Sylv’s general  _ weirdness _ lately, Gemma seems far less happy than when she first arrived. Which he supposes makes sense, given how the town seems to view her…

Benedictus clears his throat. “Ah, yes, now that we’ve all assembled, I can tell the story of Drustan, and the last great threat to Erdrea…”

Veronica steps from the pack, examining the murals painted on the cathedral walls. “Oh, this stuff? Should be pretty easy to figure out…”

Hendrik joins her, poring over the engraved stones next to said murals. “Yes, I believe I know enough to aid in your explanation…”

Benedictus sighs. “Very well. Tell me what you know.”

Hendrik walks to each mural, telling the tale that inspired their painters. “A creature of great evil threatened Erdrea, nearly sending Yggdrasil to Her death in its quest for dominance over the world. In response, She gifted a young hero, the first Luminary, Drustan, with Her power, sending him to find companions and gain the power needed to conquer their foe. And when his quest was finally completed, Yggdrasil transformed him into a star, Drustan’s Lantern, guiding all those who walk the lands of Erdrea.”

Benedictus nods throughout most of the story, stopping curiously at the mention of the Lantern. “That is the gist of it, yes. But there is one part of the story you forgot, or perhaps did not know.” He walks to a mural depicting Drustan in battle, tapping the greatsword he bore. “The power he sought was, in part, this sword. He called it the Sword of Light, and when he no longer had need of it, he returned it to Yggdrasil’s Heart.”

The Sword of Light, hm? “So that’s the key to defeating Seregon, or whatever monster is trying to fuck with Erdrea now?” Erik asks.

_ “Is that why the Rainbough pointed us to the altar? You think that’s a way up to Yggdrasil?”  _ Eleven asks in turn, a confused look gracing his face.

“More than ‘think,’ lad, I  _ know _ it is.” Benedictus opens a door directly behind the altar. “The forest you search for lies beyond this town, through this door. Prepare yourselves; Yggdrasil Herself may be friendly, but She will not let just anyone pass through Her forest, and there is no telling what may have happened to Her guardians with Seregon’s rise on the horizon.” He pats both Sylv and Gemma on the head, offers a handshake to Erik, and completely ignores the rest of the group.

“Well,  _ that’s  _ nice of him,” Mia grumbles the instant they’re out of earshot. “Always how this shit goes. As long as the Luminary’s around, we’re just chopped liver, huh?” She kicks a pebble clear across the field.

Hendrik sighs. “Mia, we have had this conversation a number of times—”

She cuts him off entirely. “Right, right, about how  _ important _ my brother is, how he’s the most important person on the planet, how my childhood centered around him  _ before _ Mom and Dad died…” She trails off, letting out a string of what Erik can only assume consists solely of Zwaardsrustian swears as she storms ahead of the group.

\---

_“What’s the flute for?” _Eleven asks Sylv as they settle into camp for the night. Mia is curled up on her own, just inside the goddess statue’s circle of protection but isolated from the rest of them, despite Hendrik, Sylv and Veronica’s best efforts to bring her back into the group. (Interesting that Hendrik’s perfectly fine to get up and down fussing over Mia when the whole reason they stopped was for his _poor knees.)_ _“I had no idea you played an instrument, too.”_

“Oh, this little thing?” Sylv brandishes the flute, treating it more like a sword—or a staff, in her case—than an instrument. “I don’t know, honestly, darling. High Priest Benedictus gave it to me before you two made it to the cathedral; he told me it might come in handy.” She shrugs. “He thought I’d know what it’s for when the time comes. Until then, though, who’s to say?”

She seems a bit happier now, Erik has to admit. Likely won’t last, in all honesty, but it’s nice for now. Better than watching her pout, anyway; that doesn’t suit her well at all.

Gemma yawns, stowing away the harp she’s been idly strumming for most of the time they’ve been in the camp. “We have a long day tomorrow,” she mumbles, “so I’m turning in early. Don’t stay up too late, loves!” In a flash, she disappears into the twins’ designated tent, Sylv not too far behind her.

Mia storms into her own tent without a word. Veronica glances between the remaining members of Team Luminary and the now-occupied tent. “I should...check on her,” she mumbles, fleeing into the tent before Erik can even get a word in edgewise. Hendrik, too, turns in for the night.

_ “And then there were two,”  _ Eleven jokes, repositioning himself closer to Erik.  _ “Just like old times…” _

“Heh, yeah. We don’t get a lot of time to ourselves these days, huh?” He’s said it before, but as much as he likes being part of the group, it really is a shame he can’t spend more time with just Eleven. And it’s probably  _ not _ just the stupid crush talking.

_ “Yeah, I agree…”  _ Something seems off about Eleven, again; not the same as whatever was going on in Sniflheim, no, this is different. But what exactly is different...Erik can’t place it.

“Hey, you alright?” Erik grabs his hand, idly running a thumb over his knuckles before realizing that a) he is  _ definitely _ depriving El of speech capabilities and b) this is  _ definitely _ reading as more gay than he would like it to. Fuck. He squeezes it lightly before dropping it. (Is that helping or hurting his Keep It Platonic thing?)

_ “Huh? Oh, yeah, I guess?”  _ He shrugs as he casts a spell at the campfire to keep it burning bright. Oddly distracted, Erik observes. Why in the world would he be?  _ “I dunno, it’s just...something feels weird about all this. Something’s just not adding up. Not to mention how on edge everyone is in general…”  _ He sighs, close enough to Erik that he can feel his breath moving the edges of his sleeves.

Honestly, as far as Erik is concerned, things are going fine, Mia’s earlier outburst aside. Nothing seems weird at all, and he can handle whatever Seregon throws at him, right?

El grabs his hand and his attention, looking him dead in the eye and letting go only to speak.  _ “You’re not invincible. You almost  _ died _ like a week ago! If we hadn’t been there, if Sylv and I had been out of magic, if Gemma and Hendrik weren’t able to heal you…” _ His hands are shaking.  _ “I don’t have to hear your words to know what you’re thinking. Yeah, sure, you’re the Luminary, but if you keep acting like you’re gonna live forever, something’s gonna take you out. And what if Gemma and Hendrik can’t revive you?” _

“You heard the Arborians, El. And Yggie’s got my back anyway. I’ll be fine.”

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say; Eleven pushes himself off the log, only signing a quick  _ “good night, Erik” _ before retreating to their tent for the night. When Erik puts out the fire and joins him, he can see the faintest outline of El’s body, curled up and seemingly trying to stay as small as possible.

The next morning, he stands in the light of Yggdrasil’s Heart, and Eleven’s words echo in his head all too late, as the sharp pain of a dark spell lodging itself in his back strikes him down.

\---

Something is very, very wrong, and Gemma doesn’t have to look at her friends, or the demon who was masquerading as Heliodor’s king, to know for sure.

One moment, she and her friends were gathered around Erik, casting healing spells and tearing apart medicinal herbs to try to mitigate whatever damage Seregon did to him on her quest to rip out his Luminary powers (from his heart, no less!), watching Seregon plunge the corrupted Sword of Light into Yggdrasil’s Heart—and the next, everything stopped. Everything and everyone except Gemma herself.

And, judging from the whispers coming from her left, Sylv seems to be unaffected, too.

“What are we going to do, Sylv?” she asks. “The High Priest never prepared us for this…we were told he’d save the world!”

Sylv smiles, waves her hand, and two of her friends vanish in twin beams of light. “He will,” she murmurs, her smile never wavering. “Or,  _ we _ will, rather. The Luminary’s burden never was meant for only one person, after all!” Another wave of her hand, another pair of bodies disappears. For a moment, the smile fades from her lips, but in an instant she seems to find her joy once more. 

Gemma sighs. “But, Sylv, how can we come back from this? Yggdrasil is dead, and it’s only a matter of time before the world—”

Sylv shushes her; another wave of her hand, and suddenly the only ones left on this doomed tree’s portion of the sky are Seregon (foul Seregon, using Carnelian’s body to do her bidding like the coward she is), Rab (of course he was working for Seregon, of course the knights he brought with him to Gondolia were monsters in disguise), Sylv and herself. “Darling,” she mumbles, “Yggdrasil is far tougher than you give Her credit for! She will only slumber for now. And as long as we do our part, Her rest won’t be long at all.”

There’s a sadness sinking in behind her eyes, and the smile leaves her lips, seemingly for good. “Well, I suppose…” Sylv’s voice sounds weak, as though she’s expending her very life force to—

Oh, goddess, no, she didn’t. No, no, she isn’t—Benedictus told them that spell was too risky, only for an emergency...but this  _ is  _ an emergency, isn’t it…

Sylv musters enough strength for one last smile. “As long as you all do your part, as long as you keep fighting, Erdrea will be safe soon.” A final wave of Sylv’s hand, and Gemma can  _ just _ see her twin collapse as her vision goes blindingly bright. The last she hears of Sylv is a whisper, as she clearly tries to stay encouraging as her strength runs out. “Best of luck, darlings! Keep each other safe for me…”

In an instant, Gemma finds herself in the snow, watching as time resumes, as mighty Yggdrasil comes crashing to the ground, as she realizes that, for the first time, she truly is alone. Alone in the midst of the apocalypse, no less.

If Sylv is right, there is still hope for the world, still a chance to save everyone. But Benedictus didn’t prepare her for any of this, said nothing to  _ either _ of them about the  _ end of the world,  _ how can Sylv be so sure that there’s a way to bounce back from that?!

And yet...she can’t let Sylv’s sacrifice go to waste. There’s gotta be  _ somewhere _ she can find information,  _ somewhere _ she can look for an answer...the library! The secret little sanctum tucked away in the center might have exactly what she needs…

Gemma, for the very first time, sets off on her own, as the world itself falls to pieces around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS: today's chapter contains a brief mention of Magical Violence, mention of offscreen Big Time Violence (you know the one) and somewhat-on-screen non-graphic character death.
> 
> I have had the ending tweak in mind—that is, the idea that Gemma knows Sylv is dead from the moment the tree falls—since just about the moment I began plotting this fic out, and I've mostly kept it secret till now. (I told Eliza Dragonquesttbh and her reaction was so worth it. Feel free to yell at me for this or for making half the party pissed at Erik, I deserve it.)
> 
> Next time...where do we go from here?


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica finds a family, of sorts, and Hendrik walks away from another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: hendrik's portion of this chapter contains what can best be described as Memory Fuckery, and possibly...i dunno, Atmospheric Gaslighting??? That's not a term but I made it a term anyway. Also allusions throughout to The Thing That Happened At The Tree, given that it was an upsetting moment for the chel on every playthrough and was probably worse for the characters in-universe
> 
> ALSO you might wanna read Thief's Adventure Log chapter 4 before this one, as Veronica references something that happened in there specifically.
> 
> Welcome back to the Troublerouser Post-Fall Hell Show, today thrusting Veronica and Hendrik into the spotlight! Especially fun because I wasn't intending on writing Hendrik's at all until I went "eh might as well" and it just, went. It sure went. A bit of a shorty, but it's fine.

“Oy, love, you’ve been mopin’ on the deck for ages.”

Veronica picks her head up, glancing at Dave as they continue their lonely, lonely voyage. (Not that Veronica would own up to being lonely, but at this point he knows her well enough to pick up on the stuff she wouldn’t normally say.) “Well,” she replies, waving a hand dismissively, “my lunch date might be  _ permanently  _ postponed, and the world’s going to  _ shit. _ I think I’m forgiven for being a tad miffed.”

“‘Miffed’ is one thing, but you don’t look mad t’me.” He eyes her suspiciously. “Y’look more—”

She cuts him off, grasping her sword. “If you try to tell me I look sad, or lonely, or  _ any  _ of that bullshit, I will genuinely fight you.” In an instant, though, her hand falls back to her side, empty, as she lets out one long sigh. “It’s not even that they’re gone. It’s more the...you didn’t see it,” she notes, sadness seeping into her voice, to her  _ utmost annoyance.  _ “It’s bad enough that the World Tree fell, but the  _ circumstances _ are even worse. Erik may have been a total  _ prick  _ sometimes, but no one deserves...that.”

Goddess, she can’t even talk about it without wanting to puke. There’d been no blood, thank the goddess for that, but, truth be told, that almost made it  _ more _ unsettling.

“I’m sure, love. But you can’t let yourself pout over it.” The boat veers suddenly towards a vague sight of land on the horizon as Dave takes the wheel.

“Pout?!” Oh, she is sorely tempted to  _ actually _ hit him this time. “I don’t  _ pout. _ Might I repeat that  _ the world is going to shit?!” _

That seems to stop him in his tracks, and she can just about see the gears in his head turning and churning as he tries to backpedal. “Awright, ‘pout’ ain’t the right word...but d’you honestly think stickin’ on the ship and sailin’ ‘round aimlessly is the best use of your time, ‘specially when there’s folks to help out?”

It’s not, he’s right about that much. She’s never been much for saving souls in need, if she’s being perfectly honest—her skillset isn’t the most suited for monster-slaying—but it’s a  _ far _ better use of her time. 

“To Gondolia, then. Or wherever the nearest port is, I suppose.”

\---

Goddess, she’s said the world’s going to shit, but Gondolia looks like it’s two seconds from exploding into outright civil war. The streets are practically flooded with people asking for scraps of food,  _ anything  _ to keep them going.

“Thanks to the monsters flooding the ocean, the fish are almost entirely gone,” says just about everyone she bothers to ask. “And between that and the land monsters prowling the path to Gallopolis, there’s little we can do to obtain food at all.”

“Those Beastly Boys aren’t helpin’ either,” one of the kids chimes in. “They’re bullyin’ ev’ryone here, stealin’ the food we  _ did _ manage to get…”

The adults nod, quickly casting glances to ensure the boys in question haven’t overheard.

Well, it looks like her path to distraction is right in front of her. “I’ll handle it,” she tells them, feigning a smile despite how crummy she feels to put them all at ease. Maybe if she eases one person’s load—well, one city’s, in this case—she'll find her own mind put at ease, too.

(Her mind flashes back to Yggdrasil, Mia’s attempts at fighting off Sir Robert falling short, the barrier reflecting their spells back at them, their (futile?) attempts at healing Erik...maybe it’s not as simple as just making herself useful, is it? Ugh. But, still, she figures, there’s no harm in trying to help.)

It’s not that hard to find the troublemakers, given that they’re congregated on the dock, yelling at townsfolk  _ as loudly as humanly possible.  _ She eyes their weapons with growing curiosity; those spears and nets are primarily for  _ fishing,  _ aren’t they? Hm, some gang they’re turning out to be…

“Oy, lady!” A pebble smacks her in the shoulder, more of an inconvenience than an actual threat. “Y’look like you ‘ave a bit to spare, so ‘and it over, or we’re gonna take it from you!”

Goddess above,  _ this _ is what’s got the town in a tizzy? A bunch of teenagers with fishing gear? (Well, she supposes, she can’t blame them for being high-strung, given the state of the world at large…)

She draws her sword, pointing it at what appears to be the ringleader. “I’m handing  _ nothing _ over to a bunch of brats like you. Unless you can fight as well as you can talk shit,” she taunts, watching their faces pale.

The ringleader steps forward, clearly nervous as he clutches his spear, the rest of the not-quite-a-gang following him, clinging tightly to their own makeshift weaponry. Dave cracks his knuckles behind her.

She doesn’t actually need to use her sword, or her self-appointed bodyguard, for that matter; a single wind spell knocks them all on their asses. Veronica rolls her eyes. “Honestly, are you lot  _ done? _ How in all of Erdrea is the town  _ this  _ afraid of you?”

From his place on the ground, the ringleader grimaces, unable to push himself back onto his feet. “You’re the first one to try an’ fight us. Most of ‘em just ‘and over what they got the minute they see us.”

Wow. That’s just  _ sad.  _ “There are  _ far _ better ways to get food, or gold, or whatever it is you’re looking to get out of people. Have you ever tried fighting the monsters outside town?” 

The ringleader shakes his head, but Veronica shoves her spare weaponry into his hands before he even opens his mouth. “Well, you’re going to today,” she tells them. “You lot are going to earn what you’ve got, whether you like it or not.” They might not be able to get any meat from them, unless Seregon or whatever now rules Erdrea decides to keep monster corpses around instead of evaporating them, but whatever they can scrounge from their quarry can certainly keep them going. “Now, let’s go.”

\---

The ringleader—Arturo, he told her, though she tells herself it’s not worth her time to retain any of their names—pierces the weartiger’s hide with his spear, and it falls to the ground, felled at last. “Is...is it dead?” He asks, poking it once more with his spear when the monster doesn’t dissipate.

She approaches it, sword drawn, and slices it cleanly across the stomach. It doesn’t even twitch. Oh, that’s...honestly, monster corpses aren’t the worst thing the apocalypse had thrown at her. At least she and the boys can eat.

“Um, Miss Veronica,” one of the younger members of the gang begins, and it’s honestly the first she’s heard him speak at all throughout their little journey. “I was wond’rin’...would it be alright if I stuck with you?” He kicks at the dirt with his feet, the very picture of nervousness. “After Yggdrasil fell, I lost my family, and…” He sniffles, and Veronica is  _ genuinely surprised _ to see the rest of the Beastly Boys congregate around him, burying him in a giant group hug.

Seems like something Team Luminary would do, at least before they started splintering, in a way, right before the World Tree Herself did. And that thought nearly makes  _ her _ cry, too, not that she’d ever own up to it; she gets what he was talking about, about being the only one left. (She hopes it’s not true, hopes beyond all hope, but it’s been, what, a month or two now? Does time even  _ matter  _ now? Surely she would have heard something if one of her companions had made it?)

“Uh, sure, I guess,” she tells him, all of them, really. “As long as you all promise to keep your toes in line.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” He mock-salutes Veronica, earning a laugh from her as the rest follow suit. Goddess, she thought she’d  _ avoided _ all that shit when she left Puerto Valor, but here she is, effectively commanding an admittedly-small battalion of little soldiers. And, honestly, this isn’t nearly as bad as she’d thought it would be when she high-tailed it to Gallopolis.

“Alright. Our first order of business, as...well, as whatever we end up calling ourselves, since we are  _ not _ using ‘Beastly Boys’ anymore...we’ll haul this back to town, butcher it up, and share with the locals.” As Veronica speaks, Dave hoists the monster corpse over his shoulder with nearly no effort, to the surprise (and delight, looking at some of their faces) of their troupe. She laughs, “Well,  _ Dave _ can haul it back, then. The rest of you, follow me.” 

The trip back is a far cry from the initial mood when they all set out; she’d watched most of the boys quivering in their boots at the mere sight of a monster, but now they all carry themselves with a confidence she hasn’t seen in most  _ adventurers. _ It’s genuinely impressive, if she’s being honest. Maybe she should break her habit of not talking about her feelings, because they ought to know how...ugh, how  _ proud _ she is.

“Miss Veronica,” Arturo asks as they pass through the city gates, “where are we ’eaded after this? I’m fine ‘angin’ around Gondolia for longer, but if you’re ‘eaded out, I’m taggin’ along.”

She mulls it over for a moment before giving her answer. “Well, if we fetch a few more monsters for the town, that should keep them set for a while. After that...Gallopolis could use a smile, I think. And from then on, I have a boat, and I could  _ easily _ have it equipped with cannons, and beds for the lot of you. Just about the whole world’s in our reach.”

He grins. “Awright, we’re with you ev’ry step of the way, captain. Me ‘an the rest of the soldiers...soldiers of…” He furrows his brow, clearly racking his brain for any idea of a name.

Veronica lays a hand on one hip, declaring, “Well, if we’re going to make things easier on everyone, bringing a bit of light to the world in our own way…” She tries to ignore the pain in her heart, thinking of her friends and their  _ original _ plans to make the world brighter. “The Soldiers of Smile. That’s what we’ll call ourselves.”

The gaggle of would-be hope-bringers nod, each letting out an individual cheer. “Yeah, we’re the Soldiers of Smile!” the youngest calls, beaming as he brandishes his (monster-killing, not fish-catching) spear.

She won’t lie, things are still looking bleak, and frankly, she doubts they’ll  _ really  _ start looking up again until (unless) someone comes along to knock Seregon off her perch. And, truth be told, she’d  _ really _ like to find her friends (and  _ finally _ get that date she and Mia arranged). But as long as there are people willing to help others, and as long as she can  _ try _ to distract herself from her own pain...well, maybe things can at least  _ seem _ a bit better.

\---

Hendrik awakens in a place that seems very, very wrong. No, the last he recalls...hm, where  _ was _ the last he recalls? Everything feels a bit hazy.

Is he in the Zwaardrustian castle? That sounds false, but the walls are exactly how he remembers, the servants the same as always. Had the castle not fallen, however many years ago, alongside his son, his daughter-in-law, his grandson, the kingdom itself? No, no, it could not be so, if he can still walk the halls.

It is, however, eerily quiet, as though the first door he opens is doomed to lead to his death by fright. Even as he approaches the entrance to the ballroom, he hears the faintest whispers beyond it, silencing themselves as soon as they hear his footfalls. Truly suspicious.

A shame his staff and his axe have been...where have they been taken, actually? No, no, has he used them at all in recent years? Perhaps when Dundrasil had first fallen, when the threat of a monster invasion had been fresh on his mind, but it had been over a decade, he believes. He is almost certain, at any rate. Regardless, his tongue lies prepared to cast his spells, should he need them, as he slowly, cautiously pulls the handle.

The room is dark, at first, strangely, but in an instant the braziers on the walls blaze bright, filling the room with light. A child’s familiar voice giggles with glee, saying in a gentle Zwaardsrustian lilt, “Happy birthday, Granddad!”

Ah, Mia, looking far happier than he remembers ever seeing her—no, no, she has always been a happy child. And Erik, next to her, brimming with youthful confidence yet untempered by failure, clutching a wooden sword in his unmarked hand...no, no, both his hands bear no Mark. They never had; he is but a young prince unburdened by destiny. “Yeah, happy birthday!” he says, grinning, bearing a few missing teeth. 

He glances beyond them, at Irwin and Krystal, beaming as they gaze upon their children, glances at the Sultan, at King Gustaf, the servants offering their well-wishes, and as he looks upon them, everything starts to make more sense. Yes, yes, this is right. It is indeed his birthday, and he is indeed celebrating with his family.

His grandchildren tug at his sleeve. “Hey, Granddad,” Erik says, and for a second the castle around him shifts, almost, briefly turning to rubble before his eyes, but quickly, quickly, it rights itself almost instantly. “Don’t just stand around! Let’s meet your friends!”

He nods, leading them towards Gustaf and the scholars in his entourage. “Someday,” he tells his grandchildren, who stare up at him with wide eyes, “you will learn all I can teach you, and far more than I ever learned. More still than your parents learned, even.”

“Doubt that,” Mia tells him in turn, with all the confidence of a ten-year-old princess yet unaware of the burden she carries as heir to the kingdom. “Mum and Dad know everything.” For a moment, she looks older, sadder, more jaded—but no, no, it fades in an instant.

Hendrik rests that vision in the back of his mind, taking each of the young royals by the hand and directing them towards the entertainers. At their forefront stands an illusionist, hair pulled into twin braids and—no, no, her hair lays loose, long and wavy. (Is someone here playing tricks on his mind?! Perhaps he should have grabbed his weaponry after all…)

“The circus!” Erik stares at the performers, starry-eyed and gleeful as he watches them. “Granddad, can you take us someday?”

Hendrik ruffles his hair, the boy giggling in response. “Of course I can. So long as you behave, of course.”

Mia nods her head vigorously. “Yeah, we will! We’ll be the best-behaved kids anyone in Erdrea’s ever seen!” She puffs out her chest, hands on her hips as she makes her declaration to the entire ballroom. The scene looks terribly familiar, but of course, of course, he has seen her at her most determined on a number of occasions. Primarily when she has dug her way into her mother’s weaponry.

She squeals, almost dragging Hendrik over to the entourage of fighters from Octagonia. (And something about that strikes him as familiar, but no, no, he has never taken them to Octagonia, never allowed them to walk the paths around Dundrasil, for fear of tempting fate.) “Granddad, look at the fighters! I’m gonna be as strong as them one day, you’ll see!”

Hendrik has no doubt in that, of course. Between her father’s swordwork and her mother’s talent for magic, she is certain to grow to become quite a force to reckon with. Erik, as well, in his own time, though Krystal seems unable to pass along much magical knowledge to him.

“Alright, my little gems, that’s enough sightseeing,” Krystal tells them, laughing to herself at their antics. “Or would you rather skip cake?”

The fighters, the performers, the scholars, all lay forgotten in the pursuit of sweets. The young royals scramble towards the (unsettlingly massive, if Hendrik is being frank) cake, desperate to become the first guest, or host, to bear a slice. At last, Erik claims his treat, hoisting it high above his head.

“Hey,” Mia scolds him, “you can’t take a piece for yourself before Granddad gets one!” There is a particular irony to her telling him this as she attempts to shovel it into her mouth as much as possible, but Hendrik will allow her to get away with it.

Erik, however, just grins. “Yeah, Mia, you’re right!” He lowers the plate as he approaches before his shoes catch on the rug, landing him (and his cake) face-first on the ground. Poor boy, he has always struggled with the more refined aspect of princely outfits—

The world shatters around him, and he sees Erik, grown—no, no, that cannot be right, but here he is—at the roots of Yggdrasil—no, no, his grandson is no Luminary, but here he lies, and it feels stunningly more right the more his thoughts linger on it—and he sees a crowd of people, the braided illusionist he thought he saw earlier, Mia, grown and melancholy, forever overshadowed by her younger brother…

No, no, this is not right, Zwaardsrust is at peace, there was no monster invasion, Erik is safe in the castle, not hunted by Hendrik’s former allies...or so he had thought, but as he stares at the scene before him, seemingly ripped straight from his nightmares, reality sinks its gnarled claws back into his head. His grandchildren, his compatriots, the  _ world,  _ now, they all need him.

“Granddad?” Erik asks, coated with cake and tears in this strange dream, and the world somewhat shifts back to normalcy, but as Hendrik eyes the walls around him, they change ever-so-subtly, cracks showing through the tapestries and banners and splintering through the rocks under his feet.

“I am terribly sorry,” he informs his guests, “but I must leave at once. There are...pressing matters that have garnered my attention.”

Mia tugs at his sleeve. “Do you  _ have _ to? You can stay here with us, right?”

No, he cannot. No longer can he live in this dream.

\---

“Truth be told, I am  _ quite _ impressed by your fortitude,” Master Pang tells him, when he finally finds himself back in this lonely void. “I mean no harm by such a comment, of course, but I had fully expected you to fall victim to your grief, to live in that utopia for eternity.”

“That is why I asked for the test, after all. I was not entirely certain of my own resolve, so I felt I needed the opportunity to prove it.” Hendrik shakes his head. “There are a number of things I wish for the chance to change, but at the end of it all, it is far more important to keep fighting. To protect those who remain.”

Pang laughs. “A noble sentiment indeed, so long as you keep that spark of hope alive in your heart. Just don’t come crawling back to me when things get hard,” she taunts, idly waving her patented Naughty Stick as she speaks. “I don’t know how much longer I have left in this realm, anyway. ‘Twould be a shame if you went through all this effort and wasted it.”

He grips his staff ever tighter. “I intend on no such thing. When I return to the land of the living, I will stay until foul Seregon has finally been bested.”

“Well, I suppose I cannot hold you to that. Someone else will have to ensure you stay on your feet that long.” Her mouth twists into a wicked grin. “What of that adventurer, Ja—”

“Physically, gone long before now, I fear,” he tells her, cutting her off before she can finish the name. “Emotionally, long before that, even.” For a moment, he finds his mind drawn to simpler times, but he catches himself, bringing himself back to the present as Pang’s eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Alright,” she tells him, “enough with the memories for now. You have a long road ahead of you, and a very short time to travel it. We cannot waste another moment.”

No more time lost to the past, he resolves. From this moment forward, he fights for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I need a stronger division between character POVs? It only really matters for last chapter and this one, but.
> 
> A TREMENDOUS thank you to eliza dragonquesttbh for lookin over a bit of my Dave lines and reassuring me on the voice/accent!! And more than that...I shoulda done this last chapter, given that's the sorta-halfway mark (fuck if I know how many chapters are left lmao), but seriously, thank all of you for reading. It really does mean a lot to me!
> 
> Also no I'm not sorry about the past hendrik/jasper. does hendrik know he had some sort of entanglement with his grandson's adoptive grandfather? probably not. it's (probably) better this way.
> 
> Next time: how has Mia been coping with the Fall? Hint: there are no bunny suits.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mia's Big Solo Adventure Through Erdrea Gone To Shit takes her into Octagonia, and waaaaay out of her depth...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI GUYS THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS NON-GRAPHIC SORT-OF-ONSCREEN MINOR-CHARACTER DEATH. I had, a concept and it went with me. What has been with the last two chapters and the content warnings?????
> 
> Ah yes....act 2 octagonia.........the bane of our collective existence. I knew I had to fix it, given, mia, so this was always destined to be a full-ass (if short) chapter. Also a moment of silence for Sirs-Not-Appearing-In-This-Chapter Underdigger and Abominable Showman. Love you, my men, but you can hang out offscreen doin whatever the fuck you do when you're not fighting.
> 
> <strike>uh i'm not posting this while waiting for my turn in dnd combat don't look at me like that</strike>

It’s been a  _ loooong _ trek from the shoreline. Or maybe it’s just that Mia’s never been alone before. In just about every minute of her life, practically from the minute she was born, she’s never been alone.

Man, she wishes that Mia’s Great Solo Adventure had been on her terms, and not just ‘cause her little brother fucked up. Well, okay, maybe “fucked up” is a bit harsh. It’s not like Erik could’ve known that the shit Yggie was setting him up for was gonna end with him getting his soul ripped out and the whole Tree crashing down on them.

But he could’ve been a  _ bit _ less of a dick about the whole Luminary thing, you know?

“Hey, you there!” She perks up at the sound of a voice, calling to her from further down the road. Oh, thank fuck, someone to actually  _ talk _ to. (Maybe she’s not cut out for this whole “being alone” thing.) “You look like you’re good in a fight.”

She grins, smug as she’s ever felt, because Erik may be the  _ fucking Luminary _ but she could easily kick his ass if she actually tried. “Hell yeah I am. You got something that needs punching?” (Look, she’s not exactly  _ looking _ for busy work, but she’s not gonna just  _ ignore  _ it if it finds her. She’s an opportunist, what can she say?)

The stranger shakes their head. “Nothing other than the monsters patrolling the road, I fear. But if it’s a fight you’re looking for, the arena in Octagonia’s new casino is always searching for new fighters!”

Oh, great, of  _ course  _ they’re just a walking advertisement. Some people don’t know when to quit shilling, and apparently even the  _ literal apocalypse _ won’t stop them. She storms off without another word to Captain Shillmaster.

“Oh! Wait, miss!” They hurry after her. “I think I heard about some things skulking around in the caverns below the orphanage? I’m sure they’d pay well for taking care of that.”

Oh, shit, are Arachtagon’s stupid minions still fucking around down there? Yeah, someone’s gotta take care of that, especially with the weird power-boost the monsters she’s fought have gotten. Yeah, she might as well pay Octagonia a visit.

Time for another long, lonely walk.

\---

The streets are empty. Would make sense if the MMA was still going, but from what she heard in the wake of Arachtagon’s defeat, the (official) tournament scene in this town is over. What was that guy saying about a new casino? Hah, good luck beating out Puerto Valor, idiots.

But anyway. It’s  _ real _ weird that no one’s outside at all. And where did all these monsters come from? That stupid spider cave? Well, that’s her best bet anyway —well, it would be if the entrance to the orphanage’s garden was even open.

“Y-you were in the tournament with Miss Michelle, right?” a girl asks, nearly shaking out of her skin. Not that Mia can blame her with the monsters roaming the streets. “You fought her, right?”

Michelle...oh, right, pink hair, water magic, took a pair of claws to the leg before Erik decided to electrocute Gramps. “Yeah, I did. What, did a monster get her?” she asks, aware all too late that that’s a pretty crummy thing to say to a scared kid. Whoops.

The kid shrugs. “Dunno...she went to go fight off the monsters and she didn’t come back. It’s been...a while, I think.”

Mia reaches down, ruffling the girl’s hair. “Don’t sweat it, kiddo. I’ll find her. Just stay here ‘til the monsters are gone, okay?” Okay, so maybe she shouldn’t promise to find Michelle, since for all she knows Michelle could already be monster chow. But she can’t tell the  _ kid _ that. Poor thing’s probably got enough going on.

The girl nods, practically bouncing with the force of it. “I’ll tell the other kids, too!”

Right. So maybe the orphanage wasn’t a  _ total  _ bust; at least she has some sort of a lead now. Her best bet right now...channel years of hide-and-seek with Hendrik, back before Carnelian (or, uh, Seregon, she guesses) went nuts with the whole Darkspawn thing, and sneak around, snooping for clues.

She closes the door behind her as quietly as she can, pressing herself against a wall and peering around the corner. She watches the monsters pass by, patrolling the streets for...something, whatever the hell they’re looking for.

“Sounds like we’ve almost got the whole MMA tournament at our fingertips,” one says, some sort of large, terrifying half-horse half-abomination. “Our new casino’s about to put on quite a show!”

Another—okay that’s just a demon out of one of her old storybooks, nice try, Seregon—chuckles in response. “We’re not getting the whole set, I’m afraid, with the Luminary gone at last. Not to mention Seregon’s, shall we say,  _ special  _ plans for the Seer’s little pet project. But soon enough…”

Ugh, sounds like she’s off to that stupid  _ fucking _ casino after all.

\---

The only humans in the casino are almost completely stuck in some kind of gambling trance. Well, unless she’s counting the skeleton bouncers, who probably  _ used _ to be human. Why the hell would you use skeletons as bouncers?! She could  _ blow _ on them and they’d just collapse into a pile of bones. (Sure, they’d spring back up in two minutes or so, but that’s plenty of time to rush past.)

“Oh, welcome to the show, madam,” a (surprisingly well-spoken) dracky says, floating by the doorway to what  _ used _ to be the MMA arena. (Still is, possibly?) “Here to watch or to participate?”

She shakes her head. “Neither, sorry. Lookin’ for someone; you see a girl with pink hair come by? Hard to miss, you know, given…” She gestures vaguely in the air. “She just  _ looks _ out of place.”

“Truth be told,  _ all  _ humans are...out of place here, as you said.” The monster thinks for a moment, or at least Mia assumes it does. Do monsters think? “Oh, you are most certainly right. The Steel Siren, you’re looking for, yes? She’s the prize of the arena! Certainly the most popular of our fighters, and so far undefeated.”

Mia hadn’t talked to Michelle much during her time here (all eight days of it), and fighting her in a tournament makes for a hell of a first impression, but that just seems off. Hadn’t she been the first to investigate the disappearing fighters? Shouldn’t she be all gung-ho about stopping the monsters in town? Why is she wasting time in the arena?

“Hm, you know what?” she tells the dracky. “I think I changed my mind. I might watch after all.”

The monster floats a little higher, then back down, presumably in some kind of nod. “Very well. Enjoy the show!”

She steps through the entryway, squinting as the dim lights of the casino give way to the bright, bright arena. It looks like she walked right into a fight, watching Michelle and whoever the hell Eleven wound up partnered with duke it out in front of a  _ ridiculous _ number of monsters. Wow, just like old times.

But...something seems off about this. In the tournament, Michelle was always about fair fights, even with an entire army of healers on site, but here, there’s a  _ weird _ sort of intensity, like she’d kick his ass so hard they’d have to scrape him off the floor when she’s done with him. That’s not like her at  _ all _ . And sure, what’s-his-bucket wasn’t that great a fighter (she’d know, she kicked his ass six ways to Sunday), but he doesn’t even look like he’s  _ trying. _ Hell, from the few glimpses she can get of his face, it looks like he’s trying to  _ talk  _ to her, not fight.

With a wave of her hand and exactly no change to her expression, Michelle pins him down with a torrent of water, strong enough to splash half the audience and almost never  _ stopping, _ until finally the flood recedes. And she  _ keeps going,  _ kicking at him, casting spell after spell after spell until she’s finally sated her metaphorical bloodlust.

Wait, hang on, that might be  _ literal  _ bloodlust. Fuck, is he even  _ breathing? _ He’s just...lying there, still as a statue on the arena floor, until a pair of bony fuckers lift him up and cart him off.

Holy shit. Either Michelle is taking the concept of survival of the fittest  _ way _ too fucking seriously or there is  _ definitely  _ something fucked up about this arena, and given the humungous fuck-off skeleton grinning at her from the balcony, she’d easily bet on the latter.

“Ah, another challenger!” Oh, great, King Bone-Guts is talking to her. “And from the tournament, no less? It’s my lucky day, indeed…”

“Yeah, yeah, can it, you bag of bones. I’m not here to fight.” She steps into the arena, trying to get closer to Michelle. “Hey, water girl, the fuck is up with you? What happened to your moral code or whatever?”

Michelle doesn’t respond, barely even seems to realize she’s talking, just whips up a ball of water and chucks it at her.

Well, if you can’t talk sense into them, she reasons, cracking her knuckles (no weapons for this fight, Michelle might be in it to kill but Mia sure isn’t), sometimes you gotta knock it into them. Literally.

She thanks Yggdrasil and Gramps and literally every small blessing that she was born speedy, dodging the spells Michelle sends her way with little effort. Within moments, she’s right behind Michelle, and with a punch to the kidney and a kick to the back of the knee, the so-called Steel Siren is down. Three, two, one, and  _ out. _

“Hm, so the Luminary’s shadow can fight on her own, then?” King Bone-Guts asks no one in particular. Oh, she is gonna scale that wall and kick his ass for  _ that alone. _ Mia is  _ no one’s  _ shadow, she’s not second-best, and she’s not gonna let anyone compare her to the  _ fucking Luminary.  _ Goddess, she got enough of that when she was a kid.

Conveniently enough, he teleports (since when can skeletons fucking  _ teleport?!)  _ directly to her, wearing a  _ really _ creepy grin. “Oh, trust me, we’re not done with you yet. There’s plenty more fight left in you, and we’ve been waiting for a new addition to our roster for  _ quite _ some time.”

She reaches for her claws, because she’ll  _ gladly  _ tear his bony face off, but he snaps his fingers, and the orb lodged in his right eye socket glows (hey, wait, isn’t that the orb she and her friends found in Dundrasil?), and the world suddenly goes dark around her.

\---

“Oh, welcome to hell, honey,” a voice whispers as Mia’s vision comes back to her. One of the girls from the tournament hovers over her, concern written on her face. Ugh, Mia hates being coddled.

She looks around. Wherever she is looks like a warped version of the arena, where the walls between rooms look more like _jail_ _bars—_wait, no, these are _literal jail cells._ Where the hell did she wind up? Did King Bone-Guts cart her off after he did his weird orb thing?

“It’s alright, love,” another voice chimes in, and Mia immediately reaches for her knife when she realizes it’s  _ Michelle, _ probably back for another attempt at her life. “Whoa, hey,” Michelle tells her, “it’s me! Whatever you fought out there wasn’t me!”

The first girl lays an arm on her shoulder. (Sinderella? That’s her name, right?) “Those who come to the arena and win, they get brought here, stuck in this limbo, of sorts. We’re stuck fighting forever, it seems…” She sighs. “In the outside world, something puppets our bodies, keeps us fighting against any new challengers.” (What about the ones who lose? What happens to them? Does Mia even  _ want _ to know?)

“Fine by me,” a third voice calls, and when Mia searches for her, she finds Sinderella’s tournament partner slouched against the wall. “If it means I get to beat up one of the Darkspawn’s lackeys.”

Okay, change of plans, forget Michelle, Mia’s gonna knife  _ this bitch. _ Fucking...what’s her name. Whambelina? Something like that. “I’m not anybody’s  _ lackey. _ And if anybody’s working for the shitheads who brought down Yggdrasil, look no further than the guy running this shitshow!” 

A fourth voice (fuck, how many people did King Bone-Guts already snag?) pipes up from another cell. “Uh, she’s right, you know. I don’t think Tyriant would have dragged her in if she was  _ helping  _ him _ .” _

Whambelina rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Golden Boy. You were buddy-buddy with one of his friends for like  _ three days, _ you don’t know any of them.”

“He killed the monsters under the orphanage,” Mia reminds them. “You know, like the one that  _ kidnapped you guys?  _ Why the fuck would he do that if he wanted monsters to rule the world?” She can’t believe she’s defending Erik right now, but really, if Whambelina was complaining about how much of a  _ dick _ he was, she’d be right there with her.

Michelle nods. “I agree. The Darkspawn rumors sprung up not that long ago, right? I suspect it was one of the Lady of Shadows’ minions trying to undermine the good he’d do.”

Right, the  _ good,  _ like trying to let a kingdom suffer instead of taking an extra day or two out of his  _ sacred fucking mission. _ For a Luminary, her brother sure is an  _ asshole. _

“Regardless,” Sinderella adds, “there’s no point starting a fight if we’re all destined to be stuck here for eternity. Save your fighting energy for the monsters.”

Oh, Mia wants no part in this  _ eternity _ bullshit. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m fighting my way out. Fuck being stuck here.” She shoves open the cell door, storming to the bizarro-arena entrance, paying no mind to whether any of the others are following her.

“Alright, Bone-Guts,” she yells. (She knows his name is Tyriant, now. She doesn’t care.) “Fuck you and your stupid arena. I’m gonna kick your  _ fucking  _ ass.”

A cackle emanates from all around the arena. “Try your luck, girl. I’ll gladly face you...if you survive that long!” A bony snap of fingers summons a  _ shitload _ of monsters to the battlefield.

Alright. She’s not made for crowd control, which is...well, honestly, it’s shit, but she’ll manage. Just stay speedy, she tells herself as she straps her claws on, keep moving and you should be set.

She slices through one, two, three monsters, each crumpling to the ground only to rise again in a few short moments. Well, fuck, of  _ course _ it’s not as easy as just downing them. She might as well toss a few prayers to Yggdrasil’s remains, cause it sure looks like she’s not getting out of here alive—

Almost from nowhere, as though her prayers have finally been answered, a pair of boomerangs cuts through the sea of monsters. For a moment, she thinks maybe Eleven showed up to save her ass (though that stirs up more concerns than comfort, if she’s being honest), but as she glances over her shoulder she spots Golden Boy, grinning at her as his weapons find their way back to him. “Strength in numbers, right?” he asks as he lets loose another attack.

One of the monsters takes advantage of her distraction, slashing at her with bony hands, but as she stumbles backwards, almost instantly she feels like nothing has happened at all. “We have your back!” Sinderella calls, bashing a demon over the head with her staff. “We’ll fight our way out, all of us!”

A wave crashes down on the monsters in front of her as Michelle arrives. “Just keep fighting, love!”

Between the four of them, the onslaught of enemies slowly dies down, and even though most of the monsters spring back to consciousness in a matter of seconds, it’s easy to keep them under control. It’s more...exhausting, really, than challenging.

Unfortunately, King Bone-Guts seems to notice, too. “Oh, no, I can’t make this too simple for you,” he taunts, and with another snap of bony fingers, the monsters disappear.

“Sounds like you’re making it  _ more _ simple for us, buddy,” Mia mutters. “How are you gonna take us out if you’re not dishing anything out?”

The ground shakes below her feet and the walls shudder around her, and, oh boy, that was the  _ wrong _ time to brag, she realizes, as a pile of rocks falls from the ceiling, assembling into some sort of giant rock monster. Wait, no, there are three  _ separate _ rock monsters, towering over her. Probably strong enough to kick her ass if she’s not careful.

For once, she actively laments her lack of magic. At least then she could keep her distance, at least for a bit.

They really are trying, Michelle weaving water magic around their foes, Sinderella keeping everyone healed, Golden Boy distracting the rock monsters…and then there’s Mia, who can’t do shit. The one thing she’s better at than Erik is fighting, and it’s doing nothing for her at all here. Not against stuff that could easily tank anything she could manage.

One of the rock monsters spots her where she stands frozen, lumbers over to her, and Mia braces herself for the end—

But it never comes, to her surprise, and she opens her eyes to spot her savior,  _ Whambelina _ of all people. “They’ve all got a weak point,” the warrior mumbles as she swings her axe, leaving the monster one-armed and terribly perplexed. “Nothing’s invincible.”

Ugh, she’s right. There’s gotta be something keeping them from crumbling apart, and if she could lop off an arm with her axe...Mia grasps her knife, jabbing it at the monster’s ankle (or what would be an ankle if it was human, she guesses), and sure enough, the whole thing crumbles to bits.

“Hey, uh.” Whambelina glances at her, weirdly flustered despite the confidence she showed  _ literally ten seconds ago.  _ “Sorry about the whole Darkspawn thing. That was...pretty stupid of me.” (More like  _ bullshit,  _ if you ask Mia, but she’ll let it slide.) “They were right, you know? You wouldn’t be trying to get us all out of here if you wanted all this to happen.”

“Less talking, more whacking,” Mia hisses. “You can make it up to me by helping us all get out of here!” She charges at another monster, sliding towards it and slicing a magical tendon, grinning as the rocks crumble to the ground. “One left.”

The newly-formed team launches into fumbling (but well-intended) teamwork, and between Michelle and Sinderella’s magic, Golden Boy’s boomerangs, Whambelina’s axe and Mia’s skillful knifework, the final monster quickly collapses into a mere pile of rocks. “How do you like us  _ now,  _ Bone-Guts?” Mia taunts, her teammates joining her in boasting.

Bone-Guts, though, just cackles, because of course he’s  _ enjoying  _ this turn of events. “Oh, you poor souls, this isn’t the end, no. It’s just the beginning!” And with another  _ stupid _ snap of his  _ stupid _ fingers, another horde of monsters arrives.

But, hey, she’s not alone this time, and she’s taken on worse and  _ survived.  _ She can fight all day, all  _ week _ if she needs to. For even the slightest chance of hope? Gladly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not...the most exciting of chapter ends, but combat writing is! It sure is!
> 
> Oh Booga has been fuckin exiled to Heliodor Castle, fuck that lecherous asshole. Seregon took one look and went, i may be evil but no you're going as far the fuck away from people as possible. Go blow up a castle or whatever. (Uh, early act 2 spoilers I guess.)
> 
> RIP Liu Za, whose name is a mystery to most players apparently. (when writing this fic i have mentioned liu za to the discord and more than one person went "who")
> 
> NEXT TIME: the chapter i've probably been most excited for, of which about 800 words have already been written because i had a REALLY GOOD IDEA AND I NEEDED TO WRITE IT DOWN.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleven finds himself in a prison, of some sort, and just like old times, he and his new friend stage a breakout. Except this time, slime puns abound. Boy, do slime puns abound.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO NUMBER ONE my internet died when I was posting and conserved the chapter text itself (thank fuck) and the summary but not the notes SO. what was that???? what the fuck was that?????
> 
> Okay! The final chapter of what I consider the intermission. I have been waiting SO LONG for this, or more specifically a very specific part of this. I wrote one scene at the same time as _chapter seven._
> 
> My notes are lost to the wind. Enjoy this chapter!!! Enjoy the slime puns that nearly killed me on reread!!!

_ Dear Jade: Well, uh, if your name isn’t Jade, that probably means I’ve kicked the bucket. So I guess you gotta find my next-of-kin or whatever...but, honestly, if you’re reading this, you’re not gonna find anyone. Not anyone I really want associated with me, anyway...  _

_ I’m Eleven, or at least that’s what my sister named me. And I’m searching for...I dunno, really. Forgiveness? Redemption? Something like that? Maybe just an escape from everything life’s thrown at me so far. _

\---

Well, good  _ fucking _ morning to Eleven. Just like old times, sleeping on rocks without a bite of food, except that’s not how things are, or were, nowadays. Normally there’d be a Luminary not far from him, making some joke about El’s terrible sleep habits, and Sylv or Hendrik would have cooked something up for them, and it would be  _ perfect. _

Hell, he’d take  _ Derk  _ right now, even with the way he snored and insisted on taking whatever blankets they could find. (He only asked for them cause he knew Eleven didn’t mind, and Eleven didn’t mind because he’s a gay disaster.)

Where the hell  _ is  _ he, anyway? Some kind of dungeon? Did Seregon  _ officially _ take over Heliodor and throw him back down there to rot? Wouldn’t be too out of the question, given that he seems to be a prime target for Heliodorian nonsense.

And speaking of Heliodorian nonsense...Erik’s probably deeper in here, somewhere. If he’s alive, which he is, because Eleven refuses to think otherwise. If he can pretend Erik’s fine, he doesn’t have to think about the alternative. 

Dammit, he should have spilled his guts to Erik before the failed trip to Yggdrasil. Should have told him about Jade, about the  _ stupid _ necklace, the Vikings, El’s dumb crush on his Yggdrasil-blessed partner...at least then, when Erik inevitably flipped his lid, he wouldn’t have to look at the disgust on his face for too long. (Just at the terrible fucking claws in Erik’s —)

No, he can’t think like that, now is  _ not _ the time to get self-defeatist. No, right now, he has to get out of this cell, so he can find Erik. Or anyone.

“Gooever you’re looking for isn’t here, I’m afraid.” 

Eleven nearly hits the rocky ceiling in shock (hooray, some habits refuse to  _ fucking die), _ searching desperately for the source of the voice, only spotting a healslime, hovering by the wall with that usual goofy —wait. Oh, goddess above, he’s seeing things, the healslime is talking to him.

“Just goo and me here, Eleven,” the healslime tells him, floating gently towards him. (Great, it speaks in puns.) “I’m Healijah, by the way.” 

Eleven has a  _ number _ of questions—how the hell did a healslime wind up in jail, for starters, and  _ Healijah?  _ Seriously?—but the most pressing one… _ ”Whoa, wait, how the hell do you know my name?”  _ Shit, did this thing read his journal?! That’s reserved for Jade, or whatever sap’s stuck cleaning up his body if something finally kills him. (Which is looking more likely by the minute.)

Healijah shrugs, or at least manages the best they can with their noodly limbs. “Heard some of the monsters talking about goo. Sounds like they think you’re pretty special!”

Eleven grimaces.  _ “Uh, you could say that.” _ If you call being on the Most Wanted list  _ special,  _ anyway.  _ “Anyway. There’s gotta be a lock to pick, or a guard to sneak up on. Something to get us out of here. Care to come along?” _

Healijah practically  _ squeals.  _ “Goo-wee!” Oh, that is gonna get old  _ quick. _ “Sounds like a heal of an adventure!”

Eleven, not for the first time, rethinks every step of the journey that led him here.

\---

_ Dear Jade: You’re not gonna believe this, but I found him! The Luminary! Or, uh, the Darkspawn, that’s what Heliodor keeps calling him, anyway. Not that I buy into any of that. I can’t believe that weird Seer was right! At this rate, I might actually get my redemption...or, if I’m lucky, I might even be able to save you. Imagine that… _

_ I dunno what I expected of him, but he’s...weirdly nice, actually. Like, we jumped off a cliff and washed up on shore, and the nun taking care of us said he carried me all the way from the river up to her church. Could you imagine my old crowd doing that? He really is a hero...well, my hero, anyway. _

_ Aw, man, you’d probably laugh at me and my silly crushes. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I miss that, too. _

\---

_ “How the hell did you wind up in monster jail, anyway?” _

Healijah grins as he floats down the winding corridors of this terrible dungeon. “I’m not onboard with Seregon’s plan. Got too oozed to goomans, they said, and I got soft. Well, softer than  _ most _ slimes,” he adds with a giggle. “So they plopped me in here!”

Huh. Eleven honestly hadn’t expected that.  _ “I just assumed all monsters were just…” _

“Splaturally evil?” Healijah waggles a thin blue eyebrow (what is it made of?! Actually, wait, El doesn’t want to know). “A lot of the monsters go along with it because goomans tore up their homes and treated them awful. If all goo knew about goomanity was the way they treated goo and Jade at home, wouldn’t goo feel the same way?”

Honestly, Eleven can’t disagree with that. Really, the only thing that kept him from turning out that way in the first place was Jade...hey, wait a second.  _ “How do you know that name,”  _ he accuses more than asks, movements sharp with anger and, perhaps, a bit of fear.  _ “Or anything about my past, for that matter?” _

Healijah grimaces, tentacles flailing as he answers, “Uh, I heard goo talking in your sleep! Goo were out for a  _ long  _ time...”

Okay,  _ definitely _ weird. Eleven’s not really sure why he’s not able to speak —he’s been mute for as long as he can remember, and Jade never mentioned him talking as a smaller kid—but it’s not  _ entirely _ out of the question for him to talk in his sleep. But wouldn’t Erik have mentioned that, then? Or, for that matter,  _ any  _ of his companions? Sketchy. Very sketchy.

“Anyway,” Healijah says, and it is clear as  _ day  _ that he’s just trying to get out of this particular line of conversation, but Eleven lets it slide. This time. “We have a jail to break out of, right? Let’s get gooing!” He floats onward, leaving Eleven to follow behind.

There’s whispering around the corner, which can only mean bad news. Eleven holds a finger to his lips, pressing himself against the wall in the hopes of hearing anything helpful.

“She’s scoured the whole world,” a strangely high-pitched but still monstrous voice says, “and no sign of that pesky Luminary. It looks like the Lady of Shadows really did take him out for good!” Laughter emanates from around the corner, and Eleven feels his heart sink.

Another voice, deeper and booming, replies, “But can we really be sure he’s gone? He could be hiding somewhere. Or Yggdrasil could bring him back when Seregon least expects him.”

Another laugh from the higher voice. “Hah! No way. That old tree is gone, and humanity will be too before long. All we gotta do is make it quicker, and wrangling up the Luminary’s little sidekicks will make it  _ much  _ easier for us. What kind of hope do those humans have without their wannabe heroes?”

So that’s why he’s here, then? So Seregon and her cronies can blot out the last light in the world now that Erik’s gone…

He sneaks behind the monsters, one blow to the backs of their heads, and they’re done for. He doesn’t wanna hear any more of this.

“They’re wrong,” Healijah tells him, quieter than he’s spoken yet. “I dunno much about this Goominary, but if he’s got Yggdraslime on his side, he’s gootta be out there.”

_ “Yggie’s  _ dead, _ ” _ Eleven snaps.  _ “I watched Seregon take that  _ stupid _ sword out of Her heart, I watched her rip out my _ _ —Erik’s heart, too,”  _ he corrects, because he’s not gonna entertain the notion of Erik being  _ his  _ anything.  _ “I try to be positive when I can, but I can’t be positive about this. We’re  _ doomed.”

Healijah, to his surprise,  _ grins.  _ “He must be pretty slimeportant to goo, then. The way goo talk about him, I mean. But that’s why you gootta stay plopsitive!” 

El’s trying, really, he is. But, somehow, hearing it from someone else (even if he’s getting sort-of-therapy from a healslime, of all things) is a lot more helpful than just trying to talk himself up.

\---

_ Dear Jade: Today we  _ should _ be making our way up to Yggdrasil. Or something like that. And I guess I should be happy, right? I mean, I’m one step closer to getting my redemption, or whatever the Seer said. But something about all this feels...off. Like there’s something bad on the horizon. _

_ Maybe I’m just thinking too hard about what Sylv said, about how everything feels wrong, but I can’t shake it. Maybe that intro I made in case I died was more relevant than I thought.... _

\---

At last, they find their way to what  _ looks _ like the exit, judging by the light pouring in. “Just a bit more to goo!” Healijah cheers as Eleven takes step after step after step, cautiously, knife in hand just in case.

He squints in the bright sky, looking around for Yggdrasil (hope beyond hope that She’s still alive, even though he knows that’s unfounded), for Drustan’s Lantern, which, thank the goddess, still shines bright (if a bit angrier), but  _ not  _ for that eyesore of a blood-red castle that now holds Yggdrasil’s place in the sky.  _ Fucking _ Seregon.

Healijah lets out a terrified squeak, and when Eleven turns back towards him, he’s vanished entirely; from the looks of it, the hulking blue monster next to him probably did him in, or hopefully just transported him back in.  _ Shit. _

“Oh, do you think you’ll escape this place alive, foolish mortal?” Oh cool, Big Blue here is threatening him. “No matter what protections the Seer has put on you, you’ll fall here.”

_ “Oh,  _ really?” He grips his knife tighter, flames surging from his left hand.  _ “I eat monsters like you for breakfast. Send me your worst.” _

The monster’s laugh rumbles the ground below him. “So be it.” In an instant, a horde of monsters swoops down from the skies. “Leave no trace of him,” Big Blue tells them.

“Aye-aye, Sir Indignus!” the head of the newly-arrived monster troops responds, and all too suddenly the horde bears down on Eleven.

There’s too many to fight through, and they’re  _ uncomfortably _ strong; the Jolly Blue Giant hadn’t been kidding when he agreed to send his worst, huh? 

“I mean,” a voice rings in his head, almost familiar, but he can’t place where he’s heard it before. “You  _ can _ try to fight them off, but I don’t think it’s gonna be in your best interest. They’re pretty nasty.”

_ Well, what the hell else can I do?  _ he wonders.  _ Unless I manage to get away from them, somehow… _

“Bingo, buddy. Make an opening and bolt. It’s your best chance of seeing  _ loverboy _ again.”

Ugh, he’s not gonna take taunting from some sort of ghost, or maybe just a thousand tiny tragedies colliding into one big trauma hallucination.  _ He’s not, we’re not… _ He pushes the thought aside, searing several monsters and using the resulting opening to dash through, towards freedom on the horizon...

The monsters part, the Jolly Blue Giant laughs once more, and Eleven finds himself face-to-face with the sky above him, and in front, and below him. One more step and he’s headed on a one-way trip to terminal velocity.

It’s a long, long way down, and the monsters show no sign of stopping. Rock and a hard place, indeed.

“Well, I like you,” the voice in his head begins, almost bouncing off the walls of his skull, “so I  _ would  _ help you for free. Buuuut, all power comes with a price. The necklace, for example. And you know all too well the price of a Luminary’s power.”

Oof. Yeah, he shoulda known. Never trust a free lunch.  _ So, how bad’s the price? _ he asks, bracing himself for whatever it might be.

There’s a faint, familiar laugh in his head. “Hey, wait, let me finish! I can, at least, make it help you...sorta. See, you might not be some fancy-schmancy reincarnation of some cool hero from long ago, but that doesn’t mean you’re ordinary. Hell, I’d argue it makes you  _ more  _ special...but that doesn’t matter right now, does it? Point is, you’ve made some friends in high places, and as long as you have that connection to them, you’re a target. It’s what got you sent up here.”

_ So I just gotta... _ what the hell do they mean? Connections...no, they couldn’t mean that.  _ Wait, I gotta give up on my friends?! _

Another laugh. “No, no, of course not! Not...exactly. The price of this little deal is cutting off anything that would connect you to...certain mentioned high places. Anything that someone could use to find you through whatever weird forces they can. But in order to do that, I’d have to take out your memories of them...and memories aren’t really that simple. You take one out, or add another, and the whole thing collapses if you’re not careful.”

Oh,  _ now  _ he understands, even though he kinda wishes he couldn’t.  _ So...I pay with my memories. _

“For now. They won’t be gone forever, just tucked away. Till you’re in safe hands again. Gets you outta here and keeps you away from these shitheads.” There’s a sigh, and a more melancholy tone. “I wish I didn’t have to do this. Another check mark on my list of regrets, I guess.”

Eleven wishes he didn’t have to make this trade, but there isn’t much choice.  _ Alright. Hit me. _

And hit him they do.

There’s a peculiar power running through his veins, now. Maybe this is what Erik’s Wild Side feels like? But he can control this on his own, or maybe that’s his mystery benefactor’s work. 

The monsters practically turn to dust the moment his boomerangs hit, as soon as a knife barely pricks their hides, before his frizzle incantations are even finished. The Jolly Blue Giant (the fuck was his name again?) doesn’t go down quite so easily, but Eleven can’t say he’s surprised; he  _ is  _ one of Seregon’s generals, after all.

“The only way left to go is down,” the voice warns, but Eleven doesn’t pay it too much mind. He’s leapt off cliffs for Erik, taken far-too-strong blasts of magic for him, and he’d do it again and again and again. But before he does that...

He doesn’t know where Erik is, if he’s still alive...but as long as Drustan’s Lantern still hangs in the sky, as long as there’s still light and love and hope in the world, Eleven knows that the Luminary—his friend, his partner, the man he’s fallen head-over-heels for, time and time again—is out there somewhere. And sure, he doesn’t know how everyone’s feeling in the wake of this trap, this fight they were, it seems, always fated to lose, but he wants to inspire  _ something, _ right?

He’s never been the greatest at controlling his fire magic beyond fireballs and straight lines, but whatever that voice (which, now that he’s thinking about it, is probably the Seer herself) cast on him seems to give him a better grasp on how to draw something a bit more complex with it.

_ Widen your stance! _ he can almost hear Sylv yelling, almost like she’s keeping an eye on him here too, and he does. Closing his eyes, concentrating with all his focus...

And he opens his eyes, gazes with hope and renewed vigor on the Luminary’s symbol, blazing in the sky above Erdrea...Okay. He can do this. He takes a deep breath.

_ No matter what happens,  _ he thinks, he  _ wishes  _ he could say,  _ whatever may separate us, whatever I remember or don’t, I know I’ll find my way back to your side, Erik. So don’t give up on us! _

And he lets himself fall, flipping off the Jolly Blue Giant as he does. For old time’s sake.

For a moment, one blessed moment, it feels just like back in Heliodor, a near-endless gleeful descent. But there’s an empty space next to him, no blue-haired boys holding his hand, and this fall truly doesn’t end. Partway down, it’s almost though he’s caught among the clouds...

“Feels like I’m always fishing you out of these strange situations,” a voice chuckles, and this time Eleven  _ knows  _ it’s the Seer. “Might as well call me the deity of drowning!” She appears before him, jabbing a finger at him. “And before you say anything, you’re drowning in clouds right now, and you’ll  _ really _ be drowning if you keep falling.”

He pockets his planned retort. Dammit, she really  _ does  _ know him too well.

“I really am sorry about this, you know.” She’s no longer looking at him, focused on something else in the distance. “I don’t make these kinds of deals for  _ fun. _ Only when it’s necessary.” She sighs. “But I promise, your memories are safe with me. All of them.” Her hands find his journal, tracing some sort of sigil over the cover. “And I  _ do _ hope you’ll forgive me for the disguise back there...and all the slime puns. Goo-dn’t resist!”

Oh, of  _ course _ that was her. Kind of her to help him out, he supposes. 

She disappears, suddenly, and it’s almost like he’s looking through one of Yggdrasil’s roots (as experienced via Erik somehow sharing his powers with the rest of the group), but traveling  _ backwards  _ through his own memories. Through the Fall, through Gondolia, through the cliff, through his travels with Derk, and the last thing he sees before everything fades to darkness is a flash of gold, and Jade’s horrified face.

\---

_ Dear ██████████████████— _

All he can decipher of this stupid journal is a name. His? Someone else’s? Fuck if he knows. He doesn’t really know much of anything, honestly. Just that he has a knife, and he knows how to use it, and he has boomerangs, and he can use them too, somehow...and that there’s someone he needs to find. Someone who might not be out there anymore, but someone who needs his help.

Maybe another half of a name? E...Er...no, it’s not coming to him. There’s something else too, starts with an L....but nope, that’s beyond him, too.

Well, no need to put a good name to waste. Eleven picks himself off the ground, picks a path, and starts walking.

\---

Somewhere, under a dark sky, a ruined city lies helpless and hopeless, a ruined village rises again from rubble, and the people in both just keep living the best they can. Despite the monsters that threaten them, despite the sun that left them so long ago, despite the despair that haunts them each day.

Somewhere, under a dark sky, a young woman gazes up, and for an instant, the Luminary’s mark sears through the night, and for an instant, she can see the stars for the first time in months. There’s hope, she thinks, and that’s more than enough for her.

Somewhere, under a dark sky, a young woman finds herself awake, four years older and no wiser, a necklace dangling from her collar, and her eyes find her unlikely saviour, an orb in hand and a smirk on her face.  _ Revenge, _ she whispers, and the world turns to shimmering gold around her.

Somewhere, under a dark sky, maybe today, maybe months from now, a lost soul finally,  _ finally, _ rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goominary killed me when I wrote it and then murdered my ghost when I saw it in editing.
> 
> I love this whole cast, I really do, but I'm excited to get back into Erik Time. and fish.
> 
> NEXT TIME: just keep swimming~ just keep swimming~


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik awakens to a _very_ different world, in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Act two begins!!!
> 
> Okay so for starters: thank you TOOOOOOOO puffinpastry for helping me figure out the Erik fish! literally anyone who listens to me ramble! all y'all reading! seriously i love you
> 
> I think I said last chapter that I was waiting forever to write that? this one too. It's got my absolute favorite tweak in the whole damn fic. I've been shoveling metaphorical popcorn into my mouth so I wouldn't spoil it for my friends. I'm SO hype guys.
> 
> This was SUPPOSED to cover all the way up through Heliodor Castle but I went on a tangent with a minor OC and went, oh, okay, this is how this is going I guess.

The first conscious thought Erik has is that his chest hurts. Or, at least, what  _ should _ be his chest hurts; everything about him feels Off somehow. 

His second thought is that he is alone. Alone in...someone’s house? In the middle of what he presumes is Nautica? How the hell did he wind up  _ here? _ Wasn’t he up on Yggdrasil? (Well, that sure explains the chest ache; breathing in Nautica always felt weird…)

The third thought he has is that his feet aren’t touching the ground, or the bed he’s on. Actually, he can’t really feel his legs at all, and his arms feel weirdly short. He tries to walk towards a nearby mirror, but it’s more of a float, which makes  _ no sense _ until he finally makes his way over there and sees a  _ fish _ staring back at him. An alarmingly-spiky fish at that, unnaturally blue and bearing a faded Luminary’s mark on its belly.

And at that sight he remembers everything: Lord Robert sneaking up on them, Seregon, her stupid claws  _ way too close to his heart _ and...that’s where it ends.

Okay, what the  _ fuck.  _ Did getting stabbed in the chest turn him into a fish? Was he actually a fish in a human’s body all along, with only the Luminary’s power keeping him walking on the land?

He hears a faint gasp as a fish (normal color, or at least normal-looking for whatever kind of fish they are) speeds into the room. They quickly look him over. “Oh, you’re awake, thank goodness! We thought your sole might be lost when you found your way to this plaice, but it looks like you made it through okay!”

Is...is the fish talking to him? Is this what heaven is? Or hell? Maybe this is some sort of dying fever dream.

“Go on, shake a tail fin!” they continue, nudging him towards the door. “Her Highfish is waiting for you in the castle, and there’s no time to waste!”

Erik sighs, slinging his bag (or a smaller version of it) over his side, and slowly swims out into the greater world. He’s been here before, but it’s weird looking at everything through the eyes of a fish. (For one thing, his eyes are  _ definitely  _ actually different. His vision isn’t as focused.) There’s a lot more to see on the ground than he’d expected.

But now’s not the time to be distracted, he’s got a Royal Highfish —ugh,  _ Highness _ —to visit, or something. Maybe she can explain the fish thing?

\---

After  _ entirely _ too much swimming—more like flailing, honestly—Erik  _ finally _ arrives at the castle, somehow managing to stay largely unfazed by the sound of  _ something _ slamming into what looks like a barrier around the city. Okay, actually, that’s something to be fazed about. What the hell?

Queen Marina, bless her, seems to completely ignore it as she smiles at Erik. “Ah, there you are, dear Erik. Thank you for meeting with me; I’m sure you’re quite confused after your slumber in the sea!” Oh, right, the mermaids do Michelle’s stupid rhyming shtick. Maybe she picked it up from them…

“Wait, how long have I been out?” It felt like a few minutes, maybe a day at most, but judging by how surprised that fish at the house was…

Marina’s right-hand fish chirps in response, “Six months!”

_ What.  _ How the hell was he out for half a year?!

Marina seems to pick up on his panic, confusion, whatever it is. “Seregon gravely injured you; we had to let you rest, and with her forces after you, we thought this form was best.” She grips her scepter, and for a moment, as a strange  _ thump _ echoes throughout the castle, her hands seem to be shaking. “Come, not much time remains till you return to Erdrea’s shores. I still have to prepare you for what fate may have in store...” She swims away from him, up towards a doorway he hadn’t even  _ seen  _ last time he was here. He follows, finally getting the hang of swimming with fins instead of legs.

They swim on and on, finally stopping in what looks like Marina’s bedroom. (Oh boy.) Her hands find a glowing pearl, gripping it tightly as the light emanating from it envelops her, and Erik’s fishy form, too.

Heh, this is fine. Seregon and Lord Robert may have been a bit more than he can handle, but aside from the chest ache, he’s never felt better. He can handle whatever Erdrea’s got going. How bad can things have gotten in six months?

\---

Okay, apparently things could get  _ pretty _ bad in six months. Where’s the  _ sun?  _ Is it under the weird purple tinge of the sky, or hiding behind the hordes of flying monsters? Or did Seregon knock it from the sky and replace it with some stupid castle? (Where did Yggdrasil go?) And that’s saying  _ nothing _ about the sea, teeming with so many monsters he can barely see a drop of water.

Marina says something, probably explaining how her weird pearl works, but none of that registers in Erik’s brain. Conscious thought is pretty much gone, save a single thought: for all his stupid bravado, he  _ failed. _ Failed all of Erdrea, failed his family, failed his  _ friends _ (all of whom are probably dead now)...

Marina reaches for his fin, patting it in what’s probably  _ intended _ as a calming gesture but just feels awkward. “Don’t fall into despair, though now the world may seem quite bleak; you’ll find, if you keep searching, humanity’s far from weak.”

Easy for  _ her  _ to say; all he can see is a little girl, lost on her own, probably lost her parents to the monsters lying around. She wanders into a church, littered with dead bodies. (Goddess, doesn’t that just iron home how badly he fucked up.) “Someone, anyone,” she calls, voice tinged with heartbreak and impending tears, “can’t anyone help me?”

Erik tries to reach for her, but  _ obviously _ he’s not actually here, and also a fish, so all he can do is watch and listen as the footsteps of  _ something  _ grow closer and closer...until a human—thank the goddess, a  _ human _ —scoops her up, hoisting her over their shoulder.

“It’s alright now, sweet,” they reassure her as she clings to them, shaking like a leaf. “You’re in safe hands. All of us at the Bastion will take care of you, I promise.” They pat her on the head as they finally leave the church-turned-graveyard behind.

“I cannot say it’s easy,” Marina tells him, “I cannot tell you such lies...but when it comes to humans, I oft find myself surprised—”

Something rattles around them, and the vision in front of them dissolves as the pearl slips from Marina’s grasp. She pays it no mind, simply murmuring, “We’re out of time.” (Things  _ must  _ be serious if the rhyming stopped.) She gestures to the window. “I fear it is too late for us, but fate will see you through…” She smiles, but Erik can see in her eyes that she’s far from happy. Probably trying to spare him the worry, if he has to guess. “After all, you’re the Luminary...we believe in you!” 

And with a forceful shove, Erik finds himself out of the window, watching as a  _ terrifyingly large _ monster shatters Nautica’s barrier, swipes at the castle, thankfully pays Erik himself no mind. Maybe turning into a fish  _ wasn’t  _ the worst…

As if fate itself is guiding him—not Yggdrasil, not anymore—he winds up swimming straight into a current, which carries him ever closer to the surface. He takes a deep breath (purely superficial, considering the gills), trying to steady himself before he finally faces whatever Seregon’s new world has to offer.

\---

Erik wakes on the shore and finds himself human again, greatsword strapped to his back, normal-sized bag slung over his shoulder...but something still feels wrong. He tries to summon his lightning, but it’s almost like something’s blocking it, or it’s just  _ vanished. _

His chest starts aching the minute he tries. Oh, right.  _ Fucking Seregon _ took his powers. Great. Some Luminary he is.

He rips off his gloves, stomping them into the sand; no point in keeping the stupid Mark hidden now that  _ fucking Heliodor’s _ been proven right. This might be childish, sure, but he’s the direct cause of the  _ goddess-damned apocalypse. _ He thinks he’s earned a bit of childishness, honestly.

Apparently noticing his distraction, a slime lunges at him, red eyes glowing bright against the purple sky, and contrary to Erik’s assumptions that this fight would be a piece of cake, this slime seems  _ weirdly _ strong. And so does the next. And the next. Fuck, does Seregon have these things on monster steroids?! Sure seems like it, from the way they keep coming and coming…

A burst of fire magic interrupts his struggles, and the slimes fall away, melting into puddles of goo. For a moment, Erik’s heart soars: fire magic means El or Sylv, and if either of them are here, that means he’s far less alone...but his eyes meet his saviour, and his heart sinks once more as he realizes that he doesn’t recognize this face at  _ all. _

“This place ain’t safe for you, love,” she whispers, pulling him up onto his feet. She looks a bit like Ruby, if he actually focuses on her face and not the crushing despair of being  _ the supposed hero of Erdrea _ and nearly getting the shit kicked out of him by a bunch of  _ slimes. _ “Come with me. We can get you trained up at the Bastion,” she tells him as she scoops slime goo into a small bucket she’s pulled out of...somewhere. “And when you’re feeling strong enough, you’re free to do whatever you want. Stay with us, or don’t. We don’t judge.”

What choice does he have? His only hope for surviving in this hellscape is by getting stronger, now that he doesn’t have a holy sword or lightning or a tree to keep him going. “Lead the way,” he mumbles, turning his gaze skyward. “Uh, what’s up with the sky here?”

She casts a strange look at him as they walk onward, past the Kingsbarrow along an eerily-familiar road. “Those slimes must’ve hit you harder than I thought! It’s been like this for six months, ever since Yggdrasil fell...first Sir Robert vanished, then Sir Chalky took the King to go find him, and  _ then _ Heliodor Castle just...exploded. Took most of the city with it…” She sighs, wiping a tear from her eyes. “A lot of the rich folks got out, but the folks downtown...Mum got as many people out as she could, but she wasn’t with them, and when a few of us went back, we found her body with a few others, just outside her inn.”

The inn downtown...oh, that’s Ruby’s, isn’t it? Fuck. “I’m, uh, sorry for your loss,” he replies, words aimed directly at the ground in his shame.

“Thank you, love,” she replies, “though I think just about everyone’s lost someone in the Fall. I’m nothing special in that regard…” They continue along the same road, Erik searching for stars aside from Drustan’s Lantern shining angrily from its perch. (Probably Drustan himself looking down on him, ashamed of his descendant’s failure.) “Whatever blew up the castle left the sky like that. We don’t know how far it reaches. Might just be here, might stretch all the way up to Arboria…”

Every time Erik expects her to turn, to lead him down some unknown path, she stays on course. Almost like she’s leading him back home, or what  _ was _ home, anyway...but the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. There’s no sense letting a ruin like that go to waste, right? Especially if it keeps them out of the reach of the monsters…

“Almost there,” she tells him as they weave their way through the  _ very _ familiar canyon just outside Cobblestone. He looks around, eyeing the barricades set among the piles of rubble, nearly untouched since his last visit. And finally, finally, the world opens up in front of him, and Cobblestone—no, the Last Bastion, that’s what it is now—stands before his eyes. Not restored, no, not really, but almost alive.

She takes him deeper in, past soldiers (some bearing Heliodorian armor, some suited up in whatever their wearer could patch together, from the looks of it) and civilians alike, not a single set of idle hands in sight. Whether training, planning, sewing or cooking, every person Erik can see is hard at work. Almost like he’s really home. Almost.

“Sorry, love,” his guide informs him, “but I can’t quite let you go yet. All new arrivals have to report to the captain’s tent.” Erik can see it clearly; it’s not the grandest tent in the Bastion—that honor goes to what he thinks is  _ probably  _ the King’s tent, if he made it back here somehow—but it’s not far off. She lifts the flap covering the entryway, and Erik slips underneath as she calls, “Captain, I found you a new set of hands! He’s a fighter, I think, or at least he’ll make a pretty decent one in a few weeks.”

Wow,  _ harsh. _

The captain’s back is turned to them as they seem to write something down; it’s almost as though they haven’t even heard their guests. It’s not until a dog—a familiar sounding one, at that, but no, that can’t be Sandy, unless  _ she _ managed to escape Cobblestone’s end—barks, heralding their arrival, that the captain finally notices their guests, turning towards them as the dog nearly bowls Erik over—

The captain steps back, nearly falling into her chair as though she’s seen a ghost, and Erik collides with Sandy in shock. She looks older, even though it’s only been a year and a half since he left home, blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail, arms more defined, eyes a bit less filled with joy, but sure enough, there Serena stands. She  _ squeals,  _ and for a moment she looks more like the best friend he’d left behind as she rushes over to him, nearly squeezing the  _ life _ out of him. 

“Spinel, thank you  _ ever  _ so much! You ‘ave  _ no _ idea ‘o you’ve brought back, do you?” She shakes Spinel’s hand, the latter saluting as she departs for...whatever it is Spinel does when she’s not saving Luminary ass. “An’  _ you _ , Erik! We thought you’d passed on when the Tree fell…” She giggles. “Well, ev’ryone  _ else _ thought that, but not me! I was watchin’ the sky one night an’ I saw it; just like the Mark on your ‘and, burnin’ in the sky. I knew we still ‘ad ‘ope, even if I was the only one ‘o thought so.”

Erik stares at her in shock. She’s a ghost. This whole encampment is run by ghosts, it’s gotta be. “Never mind  _ me,  _ what about you?! The whole town’s in ruins, I thought Heliodor killed you all for raising me. But you’re right here…” Does that mean Mum’s okay?!

She nods emphatically. “That was the plan, I think. Sir Robert was ready t’ set the ‘ole town on fire, with us still in it, but then Sir Chalky told ‘im that we didn’t deserve nothin’ like that. So ‘e took us back t’ ‘Eliodor, an’ kept us in the dungeons till...well, till ev’rythin’ went wrong.” She leads him back outside, gesturing at the rest of the camp. “Whatev’r ‘appened t’ the King left ‘im in a real bad state, so ‘e’s still restin’. But someone ‘ad to take over, so I guess I took the reins!”

Wow, Serena really  _ has  _ changed since he left. Not that she was ever weak, he’d never say  _ that, _ but she’d always been more willing to let everyone around her take the lead. She hadn’t complained when her grandfather had told her to stay behind while Erik took off on his great adventure, just letting him go with a smile on her face. But now here she is, commanding what basically amounts to an  _ entire fortress.  _ (And here  _ he  _ is, a failure of a hero. Funny how things work out.)

“Oh! Before we get you started on your trainin’,” she tells him, ushering him beyond her tent and deeper into the Bastion, “I think there’s someone you oughta see!” Serena leads him towards a group of civilians, mostly women but with a few men and children mixed in, each sewing banners and all kinds of fabric. “Oy, Amber! There’s a visitor ‘ere to see you!”

Erik’s heart, for the first time since he awoke, lifts off the ground and  _ stays there _ as his mum turns towards him. She stares at him, as though she thinks he’s just an illusion (understandable, given everything that’s happened to them both), before reaching out to grab his hand, running a thumb over the now-faded Luminary mark. Wow, he barely even  _ noticed  _ it looked off before now. Fitting reminder of his failure. “My little soldier,” she mumbles as she pulls him into a hug, “you’ve been through so much since you left, ‘aven’t you?”

Oh, dammit, he has a  _ reputation  _ to uphold. Heroes of legend don’t cry when their mums hug them, do they? (But, then again, heroes of legend don’t  _ doom the entire fucking world, _ so what’s one more failure to meet expectations?) “Heh, what gave it away?” he jokes, or at least  _ attempts  _ to joke. He’s pretty sure he’s not convincing in the slightest.

The moment is  _ thoroughly _ ruined as Spinel pushes through the group. “Captain,” she begins, huffing and puffing like she just ran ten kilometers (and probably did), “gather the troops. The monsters are right at our doorsteps!”

In an  _ instant,  _ Serena’s expression changes entirely, hardening as she switches into Captain Mode. “Dammit, I thought we ‘ad more time. Soldiers, ‘ead t’ the barricades and prepare t’ fight. The rest of you, stay back ‘ere, get the herbs an’ bandages ready, and man the cannons an’ crossbows. ‘M not so sure we’re all gonna make it outta there without gettin’ ‘urt.”

The group by the fireside disperses, some into the tents littering the back of the Bastion, the rest following Serena towards the fortress gates. Amber squeezes Erik’s hand before letting him go. “Best of luck, my dear boy,” she murmurs. “Jus’ keep fightin’, love, an’ don’ you ever give up.”

Goddess, he wishes it was that easy...but still, he won’t let himself sit around and mope when his home, when he  _ himself,  _ has been given a second shot. Whatever’s attacking the fortress isn’t going to get the satisfaction of watching him give up.

\---

The soldier beside Erik eyes his right hand with a  _ great  _ deal of suspicion, but before the guy can even  _ think _ of a comment, Serena clears her throat. “Be mindful of your words,” she tells him with a sickeningly-sweet tone Erik has feared since childhood. “If we’re t’ win this fight, we need t’ stay on each other’s good sides. None’a this ‘Darkspawn’ nonsense.”

His unwilling compatriot gulps, fingers nervously tapping the hilt of his sword. “Uh, understood, Captain!”

She claps her hands together, smiling, well, serenely. “Now that that’s settled, get yourselves ready for a fight!” She grips a spear that looks like it’s been fashioned from whatever the folks in the Bastion could find. Next time Erik gets a moment of peace, he decides, he should make her a new one, or at least fix  _ this  _ one up.

The monster supposedly leading the charge, some kind of awful puppet  _ thing, _ doesn’t look like much of a fight, honestly. Not that Erik really has any room to judge monster strength, considering he got his ass kicked by a bunch of  _ slimes _ a few hours ago. It hangs in the air, movements unnatural and  _ genuinely fucking creepy,  _ as it—or maybe whatever’s controlling it, if anything?—speaks. “Heh, foolish  _ humans.  _ This little war of ours has been raging for months now, aren’t you  _ tired  _ yet? Isn’t it time for you to just give in and accept your fate?”

Serena scoffs, aiming her spear at its head. “Y’ ask the same question ev’ry time, and the answer’s always gonna be the same. The one ‘o oughta accept their fate is you!”

The puppet’s cold eyes stare her and the rest of the group down. “So be it,” it says as it turns, gesturing to the soldiers of the Bastion. A horde of monsters surges forward, some puppets just like their leader, some beasts, or demons, or even a few humanoids singing the praises of “Booga,” whoever  _ that _ is, and the battle truly begins.

The soldiers scatter, weaving their way into enemy forces to take out the monsters one by one. Under normal circumstances Erik would be right there with them, lightning at his fingertips, healing magic at the ready if someone around him fell, but his magic seems almost entirely cut off from him. Sure, he can (and does) set his sigils around the battlefield, watching rocks spring from the ground the instant a monster lingers a bit too long, but his lightning  _ still _ isn’t working and he nearly exhausted himself trying to heal his own wounds to no avail. (Serena had to cast a spell about two seconds before they assembled at the barricades.) And, honestly, he’s become too reliant on all that. What kind of fighter is he if he can’t call lightning, if he can’t pick himself back up after a fight?

So he stays back as much as he can, picking at the weakened monsters who stray too close to the Bastion, helping wounded soldiers back onto their feet and back into the fortress. Maybe it’s cowardly, but, if he’s honest, being brave landed him here, under a sky that hasn’t seen the sun in months, in a fortress that’s slowly starving, harvesting whatever they can from the monsters outside of town.

At last, and no thanks to Erik, most of their foes are defeated, monster corpses littering the ground and the puppet leader slinking back towards wherever it came from. “‘E’ll be back for more soon enough,” Serena mumbles, panting from overexertion. “In the meantime, this should keep us goin’ for a few more weeks.” The soldiers sheathe their weapons, picking up corpses, human and monster alike, returning back to the heart of the Bastion.

\---

Erik sleeps, and he’d  _ like _ to say he’s up with the sun the next morning, but, well. Fuck if  _ he _ knows where the sun is, or if it’s even morning. Some of the farmers—those  _ attempting  _ to grow food, anyway—claim they know what time it is, but even they seem unsure of themselves. Regardless, even without the sun, he can see himself getting used to life here.

He exits the tent he shares with Amber, wandering to Derk’s makeshift merchant’s tent in search of food, medicine, anything, really. Well, it  _ would  _ be a merchant’s tent, anyway, but Derk is stunningly resistant to profiting off of the Bastion’s suffering. Erik can kinda see why El fell for him, now.

(Thinking of Eleven hurts, more than anything the monsters could dish out, more than Seregon ripping his very soul out. Looks like he’ll never know what his partner was carrying around in his heart now…)

As he approaches Derk’s tent, he hears a booming voice, eerily familiar, spilling out from the tent. He peeks in, cautiously; Derk is in there, of course, a woman (his wife?) idly chatting with a man that Erik half-recognizes. Without the ridiculous feathered hat, and as wrapped up in bandages as he is, it’s a bit harder to figure out his identity, but the man turns to face him, alongside an entourage of soldiers, and all too suddenly Erik realizes who he is.

He reaches for his greatsword, ignoring the frightened gasp from Derk’s wife and the shuffle of  _ way  _ too many soldiers towards him, but Carnelian just looks at him blankly. “I...apologize, young soldier,” the (former?) king of Heliodor begins, “but I know not the reason for your hostility. Have we met somewhere before?”

Erik grits his teeth. “Don’t play dumb with me,  _ your majesty. _ You try to kill my family, chase me  _ around the world  _ just because I was  _ born, _ and you have the  _ guts  _ to ask who I am?”

Carnelian’s expression  _ softens, _ to Erik’s surprise (and, seemingly, that of his guards, too). “Ah, esteemed Luminary…” he mumbles, I truly apologize for all the harm that has come to you and your loved ones over these many years. In truth, I have no memory of all that happened while I was, er, not myself. All that I know was told to me by my soldiers here, and much of it seems to be lost to them, as well.”

Erik racks his brain, trying to remember what happened before he woke up in fish form...right, Seregon was kinda puppeting the king around, right? Ugh, as much as he hates to admit it, King Fuckhead is probably being honest. He releases his grip on his greatsword, dropping his hands to the side. He may have failed at being the Luminary, but he hasn’t stooped to cold-blooded murder. (Yet.)

“Perhaps it’s for the best that we met here, honoured Luminary,” Carnelian continues. “I had a request for Lady Serena, and I suspect your presence alongside her will be of great assistance to her, and to the rest of us in the Last Bastion as well.” He exits the tent, motioning for Erik to follow him towards the captain’s tent. Erik, begrudgingly, follows. (When had Serena become a  _ lady _ , anyway?)

“Oh, g’mornin’, Your ‘Ighness! You’re lookin’ more lively than you ‘ave since you came ‘ere!” Serena greets as they—and the king’s ridiculous gaggle of knights—make their way into her tent. “I s’pose it’s about time for the siege on the castle, then, if you’re up an’ about.”

Siege? Erik looks to Carnelian for clarification. The Bastion’s not in the best condition; sure, the folks here are doing their best with what’s been thrown at them, but they lost a few soldiers last night, with others still recovering. Do they really have the manpower to survive another monster attack?

“The source of the monster attacks is believed to be my castle, or what remains of it, at any rate,” Carnelian tells him. “If we are to survive, our only option is to stop those trying to destroy us. And for that, I need Lady Serena, and you, honored Luminary, to dispatch the monsters in control of the castle.”

Erik cringes. “Ugh, just call me Erik,  _ please.  _ And why are you sending me? I can’t even light a  _ candle  _ anymore.” He huffs, kicking at the wooden floor under his feet. “Besides, what if the monsters attack while we’re gone? Can the Bastion really survive that?”

Carnelian eyes him with  _ great _ amusement, a smirk growing on his face. “Oh,  _ Erik, _ surely you know that not  _ all  _ royals simply lounge about? No, I am  _ certainly _ capable of defending this fortress, if I must.” His right hand finds a jeweled blade hanging from his side. Well, serves Erik right for questioning him. “And as for  _ you, _ I believe you to be stronger than you feel you are. I was always one of your strongest advocates, after all.”

Ugh, dammit, there’s no wiggling his way out of this one, huh. Carnelian’s gonna make a hero out of Erik whether he wants to be or not… “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But I swear on Yggdrasil’s wooden  _ corpse, _ if you let the rest of my family die, I  _ will _ have your head.”

Carnelian laughs in response, which only makes Erik  _ less  _ comfortable. “I suspected as much. Rest assured, they’ll be in safe hands.”

Serena claps her hands, grabbing Erik’s arm and nearly dragging him out of the tent with her newfound strength. (Had she trained in the dungeons, or did she only get stronger when she had to? Goddess above Erik has  _ so many questions.)  _ “Alright, then, off we go,” she declares. “T’ ‘Eliodor Castle, and a new dawn for the Bastion!” She turns to him, grinning. “Jus’ like it should’ve been all along, right?”

Right. She would’ve liked his companions, would’ve loved having an older sister (if only by proxy), probably would have  _ adored _ Veronica’s circus act. He has so much to tell her…

“Let me start from the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does having a Serena and a Seregon make things too confusing? don't blame me man i'm just rolling with what the game gives me. it was almost worse. (actually? blame my desire for female villains. dora and [sentinel] were not enough.)
> 
> ANYWAY. A friend of mine started act two several months ago and told me that for like three seconds she thought Gemma was gonna be the hero of the Last Bastion and i went, i can do that. and it got SO away from me during writing that that somehow Serena went from "learned spears from chalky" to "commanding an entire fucking fortress while Carnelian heals."
> 
> ("hey what's spinel's accent" i have NO idea!)
> 
> Next time: Erik and Serena loot a castle. Where _is_ Chalky, anyway?


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik and Serena forge ahead into Heliodor Castle's remains, encountering a few familiar faces on their way to save the Bastion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *shows up three months late with their blood replaced by soda and coffee* I SWEAR TO GOD I HAVEN'T ABANDONED THIS THING. Especially not with its one-year anniversary (!) coming up!
> 
> It's been...a few months. Work _really_ benefited from most of the world staying home, which meant sweet overtime pay but also i spent most of August fucking exhausted. Combine that with accidentally falling in love with A3! (if you ever needed proof of me being a theater major, I have Strong Opinions about the portrayal of stage acting in it (it's very good)) and, well. Writing has been hard (aside from OC-tober!). Not to mention...well. This chapter kicked my ass about halfway through and I had to rethink a choice. It worked out fine I think, but if this chapter feels a little disjointed, it's cause half of it was written in August and the other half was Not.
> 
> This is my NaNoWriMo project, by the way, until it's fuckin DONE. Which, considering we're fifteen chapters in and act 2 likely won't be as long as act 1 was....might actually be this month????
> 
> A quick thank you to everyone who encouraged me when I was raging about this chapter, as well as everyone who enjoyed my [OC-tober](https://thechavanator.tumblr.com/tagged/chel's-october/chrono) content!!! (A special shoutout to ellieloves2read on tumblr, who reblogged a few of my contributions with some _incredibly_ sweet tags attached.) Seriously, I love y'all and I'm really sorry this took so long!!!
> 
> (I don't remember Booga's speech patterns and I do not want to relive that scene unless I have to. If he sounds a little Showman-ish, that's why. Goddessh above...)

“Gosh,” Serena mumbles, as Erik finishes filling her in on the details of his grand adventure so far, “what a story! ‘Ow romantic…”

Erik wouldn’t exactly call being hunted by knights and dooming the world to destruction  _ romantic, _ but it’s still Serena, even with her new hairdo and her new spear-wielding prowess. She grew up on romance, so it figures she sees it in everything.

“Oh, but you never told ‘im, did you?”  _ Or _ she could just be talking about him and Eleven. Of course. “Poor thing, never knew you were—”

Erik nudges her playfully; for a moment, it’s as though they’re kids again. “I swear to—well, to whatever we’re swearing to now, if you say I was  _ in love, _ I will fight you, castle be damned.” And as those last words pass his lips, reality comes crashing back down on him. They’re not just kids playing pretend, telling stories about the adventures they’d go on someday; they’re survivors of the worst tragedy to  _ ever _ hit Erdrea, one that Erik’s responsible for, even. “How exactly are we getting in, anyway?”

She smiles, holding a single ornate key between her fingers. “‘Is Majesty said there’s a way into the dungeons from outside. As long as we can get up there.” She glances up at a  _ very  _ familiar cliff. 

For a moment, he lets himself get carried away again, back to the very start of his adventure, to a cliff and a dragon and a certain thief laughing beside him as they fell to their freedom...but again, the illusion shatters. Eleven is...somewhere, probably,  _ hopefully, _ but wherever he is, he’s not here. (Marina hadn’t said  _ anything  _ about his friends before he made his way back to the surface. Is he the only one left of them?)

Well, he’d better start climbing. He can wallow in self-pity when he’s  _ not _ hunting down the monsters threatening his home. Or what’s left of it, anyway.

\---

Erik wouldn’t quite say the dungeons are  _ familiar, _ exactly, given that he was down there for all of an hour a year and a half ago, but it still looks  _ eerily _ similar to how he left it when he and Eleven made their escape. For one thing, the hole in Eleven’s old cell is still there. (And, boy, does  _ that  _ make sense now. Did Seregon’s knightly goons  _ let them _ escape? So much for Derk’s bribery, huh.)

The suit of armor is new, though. Was it left here by a knight in their desperate escape from the explosion? Or maybe Seregon, or whatever thing is commanding the monsters here in her place, left it here as a lesson, to show any would-be heroes what would become of them? But it looks strangely familiar...

Serena, showing a  _ stunning _ lack of regard for the dead—or their possessions, at least—approaches, slowly, gently laying a hand on the armor...which springs to life before them, turning on its ironclad feet and swinging its (very familiar) axe directly at Erik’s head. He rolls to the side—huh, he must’ve picked up more from Eleven than he thought—reaching for his greatsword as he suddenly realizes why he recognizes this armor and the axe.

Either Sir Fucking Chalky has  _ officially _ sided with the darkness, as opposed to simply working for it unknowingly,  _ or _ Seregon turned him into a monster. Wonderful, just icing on this nightmare cake.

But the axe slows on its grand descent, as if the knight formerly known as Sir Chalky had a change of heart, and while it doesn’t really  _ stop, _ it hits the stone floor with a thud rather than a rock-splitting crack. Erik finally gets a good look at the front of the armor; Chalky doesn’t look monstrous, more  _ sad _ than anything. “Apologies, miss,” he begins, nodding to a surprisingly-unfazed Serena. “And to you...Erik, I believe your name is?”

Huh. Erik hadn’t expected him to remember that. “I’m not exactly a fan of getting my head cut off, but I’m not gonna say I don’t  _ deserve _ it,” he mumbles in reply, attempting a joke but just hitting way too close to reality, at least the way he sees it. “So you’re just hanging out down here while the rest of your city suffers? Not very  _ hero-like _ of you, is it?”

Okay, sure, it’s looking like Chalky is just as damaged by this whole ordeal as the  _ rest _ of the world is, but the guy hunted him down for  _ months,  _ for a whole  _ year,  _ even, based off some bullshit a literal monster fed him. Erik’s allowed to be a little bitter. (And he’s still not entirely sure this isn’t some sort of performance.)

Serena tries to shush him (to no avail), but Chalky simply shakes his head. “You’re not wrong, lad, but I’d hardly call myself a hero these days. Had I stopped Sir Robert...” he pauses, seeming oddly choked-up, “had I seen through his plans earlier, had I noticed that His Majesty was not himself, then perhaps...but no. I’ve failed not just Heliodor, but Erdrea as a whole.”

Well, this feels weirdly familiar.

“You still ‘ave time t’ do better, though!” Serena tells him, smile bright enough to light the entire dungeon. “Erik an’ I are ‘untin’ down the monster ‘o keeps sendin’ forces t’ the Bastion. You can ‘elp us an’ be an ‘ero again!” She holds a hand out to him. “Please? We’d owe you terribly!”

Whoa whoa whoa, doesn’t Erik get consulted on this? “Okay, hold up,” he interrupts, “you’re just gonna let the guy who  _ nearly killed me and my friends,  _ on multiple occasions, mind you, tag along with us? I hear the sob story loud and clear, but again, he tried to  _ kill me.” _

“But ‘e saved me!” Serena protests. “Saved  _ all  _ ‘a us. Without ‘im there wouldn’t be a Bastion left standin’!” She turns to him, eyes wide. “Can’t you let ‘im come with us, even just for a little while?”

Ugh, Serena’s always known how to win him over, even  _ without _ the spear. He sighs. “Alright, fine. He can help.”

She squeals, hugging Erik tightly. “Perfect! The three of us will ‘ave the monsters cleared out in no time!” 

Erik grumbles to himself. It’s going to be a  _ long _ adventure.

\---

“Now, that doesn’t look right at all,” Serena murmurs as she gazes upon what used to be the steps to the upper floor of the castle. “Seems someone doesn’t want us muckin’ around the place…”

Chalky nods sagely. “We likely have to find our way to the throne room by other means.” He frowns, as though he’s trying to recall a hazy memory. “Perhaps a walk around the rest of the castle might help. There must be something that can serve as our guide…”

Erik scoffs. “Right, mister  _ high-and-knighty _ , you’re telling me you don’t know some sort of  _ secret passage  _ up there? Haven’t you lived here since you were a kid, or some bullshit like that?” Sure, he might be being a bit too harsh, but from the minute he  _ met _ this guy (saw him, whatever), everything has gone  _ wrong, _ and the only good things to come out of this mess have been ripped away from him. He hasn’t felt this angry since Gondolia, since he tore through the city (and Sir Robert) to save Eleven—

And suddenly his vision turns red and time slows to a crawl around him. He tears away from his companions, smashing every remaining statue, shattering what’s left of the furniture, overturning everything there is in search of some  _ stupid  _ secret way to reach the throne room.

No, honestly, does reaching the throne room even  _ matter? _ What’s waiting for him other than some monster that could probably kick his ass, just like Sir Robert and Seregon did up on Yggdrasil? He tears off an innocent door as he contemplates it. Why is he bothering with this, anyway? There’s no point in—

His eyes catch what looks like an Yggdrasil root (in the castle? Now? Isn’t She supposed to be dead?) and his sheer confusion—or maybe the strange glow it’s giving off, like it has something to show him despite its source being incredibly dead—knocks him out of his strange altered state entirely. Curious, he reaches for it, and it consumes him in that same strange glow.

To be perfectly honest, a lot of this particular memory leaves his brain as soon as it’s out of sight, between his confusion at this working and him still recovering from his stint in Rage Mode. But he retains the basics: Chalky, Sir Robert, the kitchen, a secret passage…

And he’s jolted from the memory all too suddenly, Serena catching him as he falls backwards. (When had she gotten strong enough to do that? And when had she and Chalky gotten to the garden?)

“There’s,” he pants, wind knocked out of him by the sudden return to reality, “there’s a secret passage. Between the kitchen and Carnelian’s room.”

Chalky’s face scrunches, seemingly trying to add up the facts of what he’s just seen and heard. “So this is the Luminary’s power, eh? Tapping into the World Tree to see the memories She’s stored?”

“Yep. Never gets less weird.” He’s honestly too exhausted to remember to be angry at Chalky. Or maybe his friends have rubbed off on him? Sylv’s cheeriness, Serena’s eagerness to forgive...man, he wishes he’d picked up Mia’s drive to keep fighting. Why couldn’t  _ that  _ have been hereditary? Instead he’s just...well, almost consumed by the desire to just stop, to go back to the Bastion and wait out the end of the world.

He’s pretty sure Seregon’s out there laughing at him somewhere. (Assuming she even knows he’s still around...which, given that Nautica got wrecked, she probably does.) Laughing at all of Erdrea, their last hope resting in the hands of a dumbass who couldn’t stop her before.

“Erik?” Serena taps him on the shoulder, and he realizes he missed an  _ entire _ conversation. Fantastic. “Are you alright?” She frowns at him. She can probably see right through him, given that they’ve known each other since they were both in baby clothes. 

But maybe he’s not being the most subtle, he thinks, as his gaze catches Chalky’s eyes. There’s a peculiar look to them, like he gets what Erik’s going through, somehow. Huh. Maybe he’d judged Chalky a bit too early.

“Uh, yeah,” he replies, finally, idly running his hands through his hair (and now he  _ knows _ Serena can see through him).

“Well, alright then.” The concern on her face fades as she giggles. “Up we go!” She calls, grabbing Erik’s hand and dragging him along with her to the passage he’d drudged up from the last remains of Yggdrasil’s memories.

\---

“I’d forgotten it entirely,” Chalky confesses as they finally escape the too-too-narrow passage and emerge in Carnelian’s bedroom. “I’d shown Robert this little passageway not long after he arrived in the castle. We both got in a heap of trouble for that.” He chuckles, lost for a moment in a memory. “But there are some things that bring two people closer together, and getting caught sneaking around the castle late at night is one of them. We were inseparable after that point.”

Erik thinks of himself and Serena, becoming best friends after Dunstan caught them both napping beside the plaque by the Tor, and he thinks of Eleven, his partner from the minute they free-fell from the Heliodorian cliffs. Chalky’s got a point, after all.

But his gaze turns melancholy in an instant. “And then you were born, lad.”

Erik’s blood runs cold. Shit, this  _ is  _ a trap, isn’t it? Seregon sent Chalky here to finish the job. Not like that’ll be hard—

“Well, to be more precise,” Chalky corrects,  _ clearly _ trying to spare Erik’s feelings (or maybe just to stop himself from playing his hand too soon?), “Zwaardsrust fell, and the Princess was killed, and the whole castle changed. And I failed to notice.”

Oh. Oh, this isn’t about Erik at all, is it? (Well, it is and it isn’t, he thinks—Erik’s existence ended Zwaardsrust, but he doubts that’s the point of the story.)

“There was Seregon, of course.” Chalky pauses for a moment, burying his axe into some nightmarish cage-woman hybrid. (It’s not an easy trip to the throne room, though none of them expected it to be.) “But Robert changed, as well. Perhaps it was merely her influence, but regardless, I failed to save Heliodor from threats spawning within its very walls.”

That’s pretty ridiculous, Erik thinks. One person can’t be expected to see every threat coming, and he knows enough of grief to see how the shift in the castle could easily be pinned on the princess’ death.

(If he was a more logical guy, Erik could see how this applies to himself, and perhaps could stop beating himself up so much. But Erik’s always been ruled by his heart.)

“I think we’re ‘ere,” Serena whispers, cutting through the tense quiet surrounding them as she gazes up at what’s  _ left _ of a pair of ornate doors. Erik knows them; they are, in fact, here, in front of the throne room. 

He can’t get a good look at what lurks beyond, aside from a faint green glow. “Brace yourselves,” Erik replies, trying his hardest to sound like the hero they need him to be (and not the failure he is). “I’m not sure what’s in there, but it’ll likely put up a fight.”

Chalky nods. “Aye. Best be prepared.” He pushes open the doors, or he  _ would  _ have if they hadn’t crumbled to dust the instant they’re touched, and leads the pair into the disheveled remains of the throne room.

The room is bathed in a sickly green light, emanating from behind the throne up towards a hole in the roof. (Is this what’s causing the darkened sky, too?) Atop the throne itself sits a familiar figure, chin resting in his hand as he eyes them with clear amusement; sure, the lighting is doing some strange things to the guy’s skin and the getup is clown-like enough that he wouldn’t be out of place in the circus Veronica had come from, but Erik would know Sir Robert anywhere. And it seems, from the way Serena stiffens and Chalky’s eyes widen, Erik’s companions would, too.

“Och, so ye survived auld Yggdrasil’s fall after all. A pity.” Sir Robert’s voice echoes off the walls, only adding to the eeriness of this whole scenario as his eyes lock onto Erik’s. “Well, as far as  _ ye’re  _ concerned, at any rate. Ye’ve made it this far, but ye cannae bring Erdrea back from the path it’s been set on, laddie.”

Erik’s inclined to agree with him, truth be told, but his companions don’t seem to be so discouraged; Serena steps forward, one hand on her hip and the other clutching her spear. “Nothin’s ever too far gone. Erik can bring back Yggdrasil, I’m sure of it!”

Chalky joins her, axe in hand. “The young lady is right. The Luminary is certainly stronger than you know.”

Again, Erik  _ really _ doubts that.

Sir Robert—is he still Sir Robert, actually?—scoffs. “Ye lot think ye get tae tell me I’m wrong, hm? Lassie, weren’t ye the one crying when my knights corralled ye into the dungeons? And…” He trails off, gaze turning even colder as his eyes land on Chalky. “Ye were too foolish tae see what was right in front o’ yer eyes.”

“Robert—”

With a wave of his hand and a pulse of dark magic, Robert cuts him off. “We’re not friends anymore,  _ Chalky,  _ an’ I havenae got an ounce o’ fondness left for my old life anyway _ . _ If ye must call me anythin’, ye’d best call me Rab.”

Erik holds back a snort.  _ Rab?  _ How menacing.

His laughter is apparently still audible enough to catch Rob— _ Rab’s  _ attention, and the knight-turned-monster-clown rests his gaze back on Erik as he sighs. “Ye’re not even worth my time, laddie.” And with that, he shimmers with unholy light that quickly fades, revealing a more properly monstrous form; horns, wings, a tail, the whole nine yards. (Jeez, Seregon sure did her worst with him.) He pays them no further mind as he ascends, leaving the castle behind.

“Is that all?” Serena asks, still clearly on edge from their encounter as she gazes up towards the sky. “Nothin’ really  _ seems  _ diff’rent…”

The glow in the room shifts slightly, shadows falling where they once were not, until it shines full-force into Erik’s eyes (ow); the source, it seems, is a grotesque-looking monster, green orb settled neatly into the space where his navel  _ would _ be if he were human. (Wait, green...that better not be what Erik thinks it is.)

“Ah!” It bounds towards them, tongue lolling out of its mouth. “A shet of tashty morshels, delivered shtraight to my door…” It slurps, drawing a shudder out of the three humans. “Ever shinshe Sheregon shent me here, away from the other Shentinelsh, I’ve been  _ sho _ hungry, and shtealing the life forshe from the land can only do sho much…”

“So, you’re the reason nothin’ grows anymore?” Serena grits her teeth, grasping her spear and preparing to charge. “Prob’ly the commander of all the monsters threat’nin’ the Bastion, too.” 

“Looks like we’ve found our target then, eh?” Chalky joins her, readying his axe once more. “Give us your orders, Luminary.”

The words leave a sour taste in Erik’s mouth—seriously, haven’t they learned not to leave him in charge?—but his companions are waiting on his response, and the monster probably won’t wait for them, so he bites back his discomfort. “Alright,” he tells them. “Let’s take down this fucker.”

Serena cheers as she rushes forward, attempting to drive her spear through the damn thing but only succeeding at nicking its hide. Chalky’s attacks are met with a similar lack of success. 

And Erik holds back.

Maybe it’s silly, but he’s still in the same funk he’s been in since he helped defend the Bastion. He can still call on Yggdrasil’s roots,  _ somehow  _ (maybe what’s left of Her is just desperate?) _ , _ but the rest of his Luminary powers are still out of reach, thanks to whatever weird sorcery Seregon pulled on him, and he knows he’s been saying this a  _ lot  _ lately, but what’s the  _ point _ ?

Is this his punishment for relying on them too much? If he hadn’t tried to solve every problem with a lightning bolt to the face, could he have prevented Yggdrasil’s fall in the first place?

The monster (the Shentinel—er, Sentinel, it called itself?) charges at him, throwing its full body weight onto him, and Erik decides the time for self-flagellation is over. He unsheathes his greatsword, focusing every remaining ounce of his magic into his swing...and the blade freezes as it crashes down onto his foe. Uh. That’s new. But at the very least, he thinks as he watches the monster shudder, it’s effective, as far as he can tell.

Serena and Chalky both spot the opening and charge in with their own weapons as Erik sets up a sigil. He’s a bit rusty on the casting—it’s been a while since he’s cast this, even before his impromptu nap—but he watches it gleam through the cracks on the castle floor. So it worked after all! Now all he needs to do is bait the monster and wait it out…

Which is easier than he’d planned, it turns out, because the Sentinel has it in for him personally. Erik waits beyond the sigil’s boundaries, the monster charges at him, and a barrage of rocks carve a path from the floor straight into its body. In mere moments, it falls to the ground, fading into dust, leaving only that familiar orb behind.

Erik catches it as it rolls toward him, watching as the swirls of dark energy dissipate, leaving behind a pure, gentle light as his surroundings brighten.  _ Goddessdammit,  _ it  _ is _ the Orb he got from Marina! Very kind of Seregon and company to swipe stuff from his bag.

Serena prods him on the arm, distracting him from his orb-related musings. “Erik,” she whispers, “look!”

He follows her gaze upwards, towards the slowly-fading clouds in the now-bright sky. Looks like that monster  _ was  _ responsible for darkening the sky…

“I bet the Bastion’s safe now!” Serena yells, sounding like the past year and a half’s been lifted off her shoulders. “We oughta ‘ead back t’ make sure.”

Chalky nods, turning back towards the throne room’s entrance. “Well, lad? Lead the way.”

\---

The Last Bastion is  _ eerily _ quiet as they find their way back, just as their entire journey back here has been; sure, there are still monsters running about, but they seem  _ far  _ less like an organized threat than they had been before their trip to the castle.

“Y’ don’ think the monsters got t’ them b’fore we could stop ‘em, do you?” Serena asks, eyeing the barricades warily, as though a monster (or, worse, the ghosts and wandering husks of the people they were meant to protect) is bound to pop out of them any second. “I did leave ‘em without a protector…”

Chalky laughs, shaking his head. “His Majesty is made of stronger stuff than you’d expect, my dear. Under his protection, the folks here should be plenty safe.”

A tent flap rustles, and Erik watches a familiar little head peek out from inside. (He may be a little taller now, but Erik would recognize Cole anywhere.) “‘Rena? Erik?!” The flap falls closed once more, and he can  _ just  _ hear muffled discussion from inside before it opens yet again and Erik finds himself with an armful of excited ten-year-old.

“You’re safe!” he shouts, squeezing Erik tightly before pouncing on Serena in glee. “I gotta tell ev’ryone. I’ll be right back!” And with that, he pries himself from Serena’s grasp, rushing from tent to tent, shoving the flaps up, lighting torches (who let him anywhere near fire?!), and shouting to the whole Bastion. “They’re back! It’s safe t’ come out now!”

In an instant, the Bastion springs to life, townsfolk and soldiers slowly making their way out from their hiding spots and into the makeshift plaza. Three figures dare to step closer to their heroes; Dunstan (wow, Erik was half convinced he’d died) finds his way to Serena, ruffling her hair as he wraps her in a hug, Carnelian approaches the former Sir Chalky, and as for Erik?

Well, he finds the life squeezed out of him by his mum. “My little soldier,” she mumbles, wiping tears from her eyes. “We knew you’d pull it off, o’ course. Just a matter o’ when!”

“Sorry ‘bout the hidin’!” Cole shouts, running back towards them. “The sky got less spooky, an’ we weren’ sure if tha’ was good or bad. So we waited inside, jus’ in case. But you’re ‘ere now, so it’s gotta be okay, right?”

Serena grins, ruffling his hair. “O’ course it is, love. We won’ see any more monsters tryin’ t’ take us down.”

Carnelian turns to Erik. “Ah, Luminary!” (Still a sour taste in his mouth, Erik notes.) “You have my eternal gratitude for saving this Bastion from our enemies.”

Erik scoffs. “Wasn’t doin’ it for you, buddy. This place is my home, too.”

Carnelian chuckles, even though Erik really wasn’t being funny. “I suppose that is fair. Now, what are your next steps?”

Erik pauses. Shit, he doesn’t have a damn clue. He  _ could _ stay here, rebuilding Cobblestone...but for what? To have a nice place to watch the apocalypse? And who’s to say there aren’t more Sentinels around to ruin their day, especially now that Rab knows for sure he’s alive? 

Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t stick around. Maybe...maybe he should listen to what Sylv said, all the way back in Sniflheim. Maybe he  _ should _ be a hero, a  _ proper  _ hero, for once. (And, if he’s lucky, maybe more of his friends survived?)

“I’m going to leave,” he tells King Fuckhead. “There’s gotta be  _ some _ hope of saving Erdrea, right? And I’m not going to stand around just waiting for the end.” (And, well, if he doesn’t quite believe in hope right now, he might as well  _ fake _ it.)

Carnelian nods. “A noble quest, indeed. And one you ought not to venture on alone.” He motions for Chalky to join their conversation. “Sir Chalky, if you will. I know the pair of you have had your issues in the past. However—”

Chalky shakes his head. “I apologize, your Highness, but I cannot.”

Carnelian inelegantly gapes at him. Erik’s pretty sure his own face matches.

Chalky turns from them, gazing out over the Bastion. “I owe these people a great deal. I failed them. Failed Erdrea as a whole.” He pauses, sighing as he turns back to Erik and the king. “Perhaps aiding the Bastion won’t make up for the harm I’ve done, but any amount of reparations I  _ can _ make is enough for now.”

Carnelian huffs, and for a moment he seems ready to object, but then simply replies, “Very well, then. If you insist.” He waves Chalky off, murmuring, “I suppose you  _ will _ have to undergo your journey alone, then. My apologies, Luminary.”

Erik rolls his eyes; it’d be nice to set off with someone by his side, but he won’t  _ force _ anyone into it.  _ Fuck  _ Carnelian. “I’ll be fine,” he grumbles, even though he  _ really  _ doesn’t believe it, and heads back to the tent he’s so briefly called home. One last night in the safety of the Bastion before he heads out to take on the world.

\---

Erik’s really not used to waking up after the sun. A year on the run meant a year of waking up in the dark, for the most part; shaking Eleven and Mia awake, leading the group as best as he could away from the prying eyes of Heliodor and its allies. Even after Yggdrasil’s fall, the dark of the ocean floor and the hazy sky here in the Bastion had the same effect on him.

But now, the sun creeps in from behind the tent flap right into Erik’s eyes. Shit, he’d kinda hoped to skedaddle before anyone else was up to notice. No use giving a proper  _ see you later _ if he knows he’ll more likely than not end up dead; he doesn’t want to put false hope in anyone’s head, least of all Mum or Serena.

He gives Mum a quick hug goodbye—he  _ knows _ she’d rather take her time, but they both know he has to move fast, before the rest of Seregon’s legions catch on to where he’s at— gathers his equipment and a  _ shitload _ of medicinal herbs (healing magic gone with the lightning and whatever else Seregon ripped out of him), and heads for the edge of the barricade.

Serena’s waiting for him there, which is far more surprising than it should be. “Thought you could just ‘ead outta ‘ere without sayin’ goodbye?” she asks, the sharp end of her spear piercing the ground. (Erik hopes he never ends up on the wrong end of that thing.)

He sighs. “Look, if there’s  _ anything _ I can do to fix Yggdrasil, I have to go and find it. And anyway, the longer I stay here, the more at-risk you all are.” She knows he’s right, and sure, she can probably see through his lack of faith, but she probably won’t push it.

“Oh, I know,” she replies, grinning as she gestures to her bag. “Tha’s why I’m comin’ along with you! No matter wha’ Grandad says. ‘Sides, someone oughta keep you in line.” She elbows him gently, careful not to send the spear crashing into him.

He’s embarrassed to admit he lets out a sigh of relief. He  _ should _ be able to handle this himself, but he’s seen her fight, and he  _ definitely _ won’t turn down a real adventure with his best friend. (And, as much as he hates to admit it, he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to be alone out there.) “Fine, I guess,” he tells her, with no real bite behind his words. “You’re in.”

She digs her spear out from the dirt, pointing it ahead towards the great unknown. “Alright, love, lead the way!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some sweet behind-the-scenes lore: originally Chalky was supposed to ACTUALLY come along with Erik and Serena, but while writing this chapter I struggled so hard with writing him that I eventually went "can i just leave him in the bastion please" before realizing, i'm writing this and absolutely could.
> 
> Serena, by the way, was pretty much always planned to come along! I couldn't just leave her in Cobblestone...
> 
> Also I apologize to all the Rab stans, Scottish readers (i'm so fucking sorry nee) and/or those who don't wanna think about monster Rab. I also didn't want to think about it.
> 
> Soooo I gotta actually PLAN next chapter, post a bit of forest fires (remember forest fires?????? i don't blame you i also forgot about it for a bit) and then, we're off to find a stoic grandpa, maybe?


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited at last, Erik and Serena embark on their journey to find the remains of Team Luminary and/or any hope of saving Erdrea after all, finding their way to a little mountain temple north of Puerto Valor...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! The one-year anniversary of Troublerouser's publishing date was a couple days ago!!! I have never kept up with _any_ project for this long before! I'm SO excited to actually get this finished up, hehe!
> 
> Some housekeeping before we begin: the OC presented here is [Sprout,](https://thechavanator.tumblr.com/post/634275888907862016/so-i-was-talking-about-a-theoretical-sequel-to) a theoretical future-Luminary who kinda, sorta, wound up here as a not-Luminary. So the opposite of...hang on, that's a later project! 
> 
> Some lore stuff has been changed; mostly just what Angri La's purpose is. It didn't feel right being primarily a royal training grounds anymore. 
> 
> I apologize for not having more Hendrik in a Hendrik-centered chapter; in canon, Rab's reacquisition is WEIRD on account of the fact that he's already learned from his arc by the time you find him (this is why I fuckin LOVE the new content in the definitive edition; it actually SHOWS his struggle there, imo), and in troublerouser, Hendrik is ABSURDLY tricky for me to write. I'm sorry, knight grampa, especially because I roast you SO much. (It's only cause I love you)
> 
> To be TOTALLY honest, this chapter has minimal editing cause I was just excited to get it out there. Press f for my eyes.
> 
> WARNING: While the contents are not shown, there sure is an Ogler's Digest. I'm so fuckin sorry.

They make it about three days before they come to a stunning realization: they have  _ no idea _ where to start. Maybe they should’ve asked Carnelian, but the thought of spending two more seconds talking to that guy, possessed or not, makes Erik  _ incredibly _ uncomfortable.

“Not much t’do ‘ere,” Serena mumbles. “The Bastion’s all that’s left.”

Erik nods. “And I washed up by the Kingsbarrow. Nothing there either.” He frowns, racking his brain for any place he might find people. “I guess our best option is through the Manglegrove; Puerto Valor should be on the other side, right?”

Maybe they can get help from whoever it was that basically runs the place, Hendrik’s old friend, the one who wasn’t there to see them off. Roger, or something like that?

Serena grins; count on her to smile her way through their shitty situation, no matter how scared she is. Though, now that he thinks of it, isn’t this her first time so far away from home? Maybe she’s just excited to see the world.

He leads her into the overgrown jungle. The roads look a  _ lot _ more torn up than he remembers (right, monster territory), and the creatures that lurk here are, like every other monster he’s seen,  _ far _ more terrifying than they had been before his stupid nap.  _ Thanks,  _ Seregon. But they pull through, hacking their way through until they finally see light through the trees, grateful to see the end of their little metaphorical dungeon-crawl...until they hear it.

“Um, excuse me!”

Erik is  _ not _ scared by this voice, no matter what Serena ends up telling  _ anyone _ about how he launched himself sky-high. He  _ perfectly calmly  _ unsheathes his greatsword, pointing it in the general direction of the intruder.

“Oh, goodness, I’m not here to hurt you!” Erik glances down,  _ finally _ getting a good look at her; she might be a young adult, might just be a  _ very _ mature-looking teenager, but he’s still pretty sure she shouldn’t be out on her own.

But, then again, these are  _ pretty  _ weird times.

Serena gasps, shoving Erik’s hand (and the greatsword in it) down. “I’m so sorry, love! We’ve been through a lot lately, tha’s all. But what’re you doin’ out ‘ere?”

The girl holds up a hand, showing off the attached claws. “Monster hunting. Angri La’s running out of food, even without the barricade, and monsters are all we got.” She shrugs.

“Angri La?” It sounds familiar, but Erik can’t say he’s been there. For the most part, they just stuck to the places the Rainbough detected orbs at, aside from the Lonalulu incident and their brief trip to the mini medal academy. (Truth be told, Erik really hadn’t minded wearing that uniform. The students fawning over him, on the other hand...)

The girl gestures behind her. “It’s ‘Erdrea’s spiritual center’, or I guess that’s just what the folks in charge always told me. People in need of guidance used to go there and seek out the Grand Master’s advice.” She sighs. “‘Course, that was before Heliodor cut off our supply line and closed us in. And even now, we don’t really get visitors, given everything else going on.”

A place to seek guidance, huh? Well, if there was ever a place to start… “I’ll tell you what,” he begins. “I’ll give you some of our food stores if you lead us back there. We got a deal?”

She beams. “Oh, that’d be  _ fantastic!  _ Just follow me!” She pivots on her heels, zipping ahead so fast that Erik and Serena can barely keep up.

\---

Man, living on that mountain must give that girl  _ crazy  _ stamina; every time Erik feels like he’s about to drop, she hasn’t even broken a sweat. And it feels like there’s still so much more to climb…

But at last, at long  _ fucking _ last, he can see buildings peeking out from behind stone. Maybe now he can get a room in the inn and  _ sleep. _

But no, the girl (Sprout, she had called herself, to Erik’s  _ immense _ confusion; who the fuck would name their kid  _ Sprout? _ ) marches them straight up to the temple in the center, with no time for Erik to rest his feet. “Grand Master, sir!” she calls, “I found a few travelers willing to share food with us in exchange for guidance here!”

Erik kind of objects to the idea of him  _ seeking guidance, _ at least when it’s said out loud. He’s the  _ Luminary,  _ he shouldn’t —well, he really isn’t the Luminary anymore. Why does he care if people find out he doesn’t have a damn clue what he’s doing?

“Sprout,” one of the older men replies (goddess, Erik had thought she was  _ kidding _ when she called herself that!), “how many times have we warned you not to bring strangers back to Angri La! The last thing we need is a monster attack brought on by one of our own.”

She opens her mouth, probably going to defend herself, but another voice cuts through the tension. “There is no need to worry. She has a much steadier head on her shoulders than you seem to believe.” There’s an almost muffled sound of footsteps on stone before Erik finds himself face-to-face with a  _ literal child. _ “At any rate, she seems to have brought the Luminary to us.”

Now, a year and a half ago, Erik would only have raised an eyebrow at this kid knowing about his Yggdrasil-given powers, but he’s been through a  _ lot  _ of shit. He’s seen adults shoved back into child bodies, monsters disguising themselves as lost little girls, and humans actively  _ working with _ giant monster spiders. So the fact that this theoretical child knows he is—or  _ was,  _ anyway—the Luminary is enough to raise the alarm bells.

The kid raises his hands, as if to show that he doesn’t mean to hurt him. (Boy, is this familiar.) “There is no cause for concern, Luminary. The monks of Angri La have always been allied with Yggdrasil and her chosen one.”

Serena  _ visibly _ relaxes; apparently she’d come to the same conclusion Erik had. “Thank the Spirit of the Land,” she mumbles.

“Now,” the kid continues, “let us celebrate your arrival here. Sprout, would you mind bringing the supplies to the chefs and informing them of our guests?”

Sprout bows. “Yes, Grand Master, sir!” she calls before racing down the stairs towards the temple kitchen, leaving Erik and Serena to process her words.

This kid is the  _ Grand Master _ ?

\---

“It’s a fairly recent development,” Sprout tells them over dinner. “We were all weakened after Heliodor’s blockade, and when Yggdrasil fell and the monsters invaded….we couldn’t protect ourselves. Grand Master Pang cast a spell to keep us safe, but…” She wipes a few tears from her eyes. “You use too much magic, and you might die of exhaustion. That’s exactly what happened to her.”

The Grand Master (who has yet to tell them his name) nods. “We had no need to prepare a successor, since we believed she still had many years left in her, so the position was granted to the monk with the most spiritual power...which, in this case, happened to be myself.” He picks idly at the vegetables on his plate. “Not all who reside here were happy about it, at first, but they seem to have come around.”

Well,  _ that  _ feels pretty familiar. It took a  _ while _ for Gemma to adjust her own expectations when she first met him. (Maybe she was right to be annoyed at him at first, given how things turned out…)

“That one guy I led here didn’t seem too happy about it,” Sprout replies, skewering a piece of monster meat with  _ extreme  _ prejudice. “As soon as I told him Grand Master Pang had passed on, he marched his way up the mountain without another word. Never came back down after that, either.” She shrugs, forgoing words in favor of more food.

Serena frowns, laying down her fork. “An’ you just left ‘im up there?”

“Well, he  _ seemed _ pretty good in a fight. All I did was show him where to go, like I did with you.” Another piece of meat finds its way into her mouth. “Probably just cast Zoom once he got up there.”

The frown doesn’t leave Serena’s face. “Erik, you mind if we take a trip up there while we’re ‘ere? I’d feel plenty awful if somethin’ ‘appened to ‘im up there an’ ‘e never got a proper burial…”

He’s got places to go, wherever  _ those  _ might be, and it’s only a matter of time before the brewing apocalypse worsens. But at the same time...it’s Serena’s first adventure away from home, or the first she  _ willingly _ went on, anyway. Surely he can indulge her, right?

“Fine with me,” he tells her, and she beams as she returns to her meal. “Sprout, you mind doin’ us one more favor? You probably know where he’d ended up, if he  _ did _ become monster chow.”

Serena gawks at him in reply, dropping her fork once more, but Sprout barely bats an eye. “As long as the Grand Master doesn’t mind, I’m up for it.” She glances toward him, waiting for a response.

He hums. “Should our mysterious traveler have come to any harm, the responsibility falls upon my shoulders, as head of Angri La; plus, I  _ believe  _ I may know what happened, and if I am correct, it may be best that I travel by your side. So, if you will permit it, please allow Sprout and I to accompany you.”

Alright, that’s  _ kinda _ sketchy, but Erik won’t complain about an extra pair of companions. “Sounds great. Mind if we set out in the morning?” Sure, there’s no time to lose, but it’s been  _ ages _ since Erik’s eaten this well, and he’d rather take the time to savor it.

\---

The night comes to an end, and Erik once more wakes to light peeking through the curtains. Goddess, he’s  _ never _ gonna get used to that, is he?

Serena, on the other hand, is still sound asleep, quietly snoring as she ignores the sun’s rays. At least some things never change...though, how the hell did she manage to catch him before he left the Bastion, then? Had she stayed awake the whole night to wait for him, or had she learned to fight past the morning grogginess?

She suddenly sits up, stretching as she adjusts to the morning light. Huh.

They quickly gather their things, meeting Sprout and the Grand Master in the central hall downstairs. From there, the two of them lead Erik and Serena up the winding mountain path, towards the summit.

“So, uh.” Erik has a  _ lot _ of questions, and maybe it’s not the best time to bring it up, but they have plenty of time on their hands anyway…well, he might as well start with the easy one. “What’s all this about a blockade?”

Sprout jabs a claw into a monster bird before answering. “Like I told you guys, Angri La’s a place to go for guidance. King Carnelian thought that the Luminary would seek guidance from us, so the moment you presented yourself in Heliodor, he sent soldiers to cut us off from the rest of the world.” Some kind of fiery horse-demon meets its unfortunate end at her hands. “Figured either you’d try to come here and they’d catch you, or you’d just wander around aimlessly and make it easy.”

Hm. Seregon hadn’t counted on the twins, then, huh? He really oughta thank them when he sees them again; if any of his friends pulled through, it’s Sylv, and he knows she’d fight through  _ hell itself  _ before letting her sister stay dead.

Serena hums in reply, still gripping her spear in case another monster shows up. “Now, my question…’ow’d you know Erik was the Luminary?”

Erik mentally high-fives her. Still on the same wavelength after so long!

“To be truthful, it was a guess. I can’t quite put my finger on why, but I simply...knew, I suppose.” The Grand Master shrugs. “Perhaps Yggdrasil Herself guiding my thoughts from wherever she now rests…”

Erik kinda tunes out the rest of the conversation, because he’s now  _ firmly _ distracted by the shrine on the summit. Or, to be more specific, the shrine currently occupied by some asshole who brought a  _ goddess-damned Ogler’s Digest  _ to pray with him.

Serena approaches cautiously, carefully peeling the magazine from its place in the snow before Erik slaps her hand away. “Fuck, no, Serena, trust me. You don’t wanna look at that shit.” Best keep what little innocence she has left, he thinks, even as she frowns, obviously wondering why she can’t look at it.

Sprout, on the other hand, has  _ far  _ fewer qualms about picking it up (and honestly, Erik would rather it be her than the literal child with them). “Ugh.” She tosses it away, face scrunched in disgust. “Man, if I’d known he was  _ that _ kinda guy, I wouldn’t have led him up here in the first place.” She pauses, examining him more closely. “Though he looks a bit more shriveled-up than when I saw him.”

Erik slaps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from saying the absolute  _ garbage  _ that initially comes to his mind.  _ Please, _ Erik, think of the child (and Serena). Though, now that he’s looked past the porn mag, this guy  _ does _ look familiar...

His greatsword hits the ground. Motherfucker, is that seriously Hendrik. And judging by how badly-off he looks…

“Um, I’m not sure ‘e’s breathin’,” Serena tells them. Her hands glow green as she casts a healing spell on him, but Erik can’t see any real change.  _ This  _ bodes well for the rest of his friends…

The Grand Master approaches (having blissfully ignored the porn), checking his pulse. “No, he still lives. But it seems my suspicions are accurate...he likely used the shrine to travel to the void between life and death in search of my predecessor.”

Why had none of them thought to check for a pulse before proclaiming him dead? And more importantly, that’s a  _ thing _ people can do? They can just eject themselves into  _ half-death _ for a bit? Goddess, he left home a year ago and shit  _ still _ manages to throw him for a loop.

“I don’t think he has much time left,” the Grand Master continues, “before he stays stuck there. But if I could send one of you there…”

Serena and Sprout exchange looks; neither of them look too thrilled about the idea. Neither is  _ Erik,  _ to be fair, but he oughta actually try to be the hero he was supposed to be, right? “I’ll go,” he tells them, willfully ignoring the girls’ sighs of relief.

The Grand Master nods. “It’s likely for the best, Luminary. I suspect you may have the best chances of returning with him.” He grabs Erik’s hand (boy does it feel weird to hold hands with anyone whose name isn’t Serena or Eleven), quietly chanting something he can’t understand as the world goes dark around him.

\---

Erik really didn’t have  _ expectations  _ for whatever the land between life and death might be, but it really wasn’t this. It’s so...cold. Lifeless, which goes without saying, he supposes.  _ Lonely. _ Right now it’s just him and the stone he walks on. No sign of Hendrik…

He picks a direction and starts walking, hoping (probably in vain) for  _ anything _ that might lead him to Hendrik or his half-dead would-be mentor. Minutes pass, and the scenery doesn’t change. Part of him wonders if this was a trap...maybe he was right to question the kid?

“Oh, dear. Another lost soul.” 

He looks around wildly, desperate to find the source of the voice. Nope, still a whole lot of nothing as far as his eyes can see. Great, now he’s  _ hearing  _ things.

“No need to fret. Just follow the sound of my voice. You’ll find me in no time.”

He does just that, following where he thinks the voice is coming from before stumbling on what looks like a stone temple and a woman with silver hair waiting inside with her back turned to him.

“There you go,” she mumbles, not even  _ looking  _ at him, “you’re safe here until you finally fade away. Or unless that Luminary manages to fix things, which—” She turns to face him, interrupting her train of thought  _ entirely.  _ “Oh. It’s you.” She looks him over once, twice, before muttering, “I’m  _ quite  _ certain you’re not dead.”

Congrats on having  _ eyes, _ lady. (Wait, is this the last Grand Master? Shit, maybe he should be more respectful.) “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “I’m looking for...uh, my grandfather, I guess.” (The term, at least as far as  _ Hendrik _ is concerned, still feels kinda wrong on his tongue.)

She sighs. “Your grandfather passed on  _ far _ too long ago to be here. He’s far more likely to have been reincarnated—ah. Your  _ other _ grandfather.” (Awesome, she gets it.) She turns once more, gesturing to the open arena behind her. “He is merely training.”

Oh, thank the  _ goddess _ . 

She seems to sense his relief, laughing at him. “Oh, did you think he merely gave up? No, he came here to ensure that he was prepared to keep fighting. He’s been training under my tutelage ever since.” She grins, almost wicked, which Erik feels he should be  _ deeply _ afraid of. “Perhaps your arrival here is more convenient than I had thought…follow me.”

She leads him into the arena, and the two of them watch Hendrik do... _ something.  _ Is he casting a spell? That’s the only explanation Erik can find for the sigil forming at his feet, but he’s pretty sure they don’t usually require this much movement. What does she have him doing?

“Ah, Master Pang…” He catches Erik’s eye, and his steps falter; he doesn’t actually fall (almost tragic, to be honest; Erik does genuinely care about Hendrik, but it would have been  _ really  _ funny), but he comes close, feet briefly tangling before he rights himself. Is he wiping a tear from his eye? “Erik,” he mumbles, voice sounding strangely choked-up. “I had hoped not to find you here...but I swear, I will fight on in your stead.”

Seriously, two for two with people thinking he’s dead?!

The former Grand Master scoffs, brandishing some kind of odd, hand-shaped stick (Erik does  _ not _ want to know) and lightly smacking it against her palm. “He’s not  _ dead, _ you fool. He came to ‘rescue’ you, because, if I’m correct, you told no one of your plans here.”

Hendrik glances down, shame written on his face. Serves you right, Gramps.

“No matter. While he is here, you may as well practice what you have learned.” Ah, shit,  _ that’s  _ the reason for the terrifying grin earlier. “And you, Luminary, I believe I have something that will serve you well.” She gestures to the opposite side of the arena from where Hendrik stands, and Erik follows her lead, reaching for his greatsword—

She holds out a hand. “There will be no weapons in this fight. Just follow my lead.”

He would  _ love  _ to protest, given that pretty much all of his non-weapon skills are gone, but she casts him a look that screams  _ do not argue with me on this, _ and he swallows all his protests. Okay. No weapons. Hendrik  _ probably  _ won’t kill him.

As those thoughts pass through Erik’s brain, Hendrik fires an orb of light at him; Erik  _ narrowly _ dodges, watching it cut through the side of his jacket.

Okay. Hendrik  _ might _ kill him.

“Focus,” Pang tells him. “Channel the magic you have left into the palm of your hand.”

Yeah, a lot easier said than done, but Erik tries anyway, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggles to focus. It feels like  _ something’s  _ happening, that’s for sure.

“Now, open your eyes and set that magic free.”

Erik nods, forcing the magic from his hand towards Hendrik. He opens his eyes, watching the magic-sword he created  _ (whoa) _ make contact with his opponent...who barely seems to have a scratch on him.  _ Fantastic. _

Pang sighs. “It takes time to learn. Keep practicing, just like that.”

Of course. Places to go, people to find, and here Erik is, stuck in the void, learning weird magic from a ghost and his own grandfather.

\---

“I believe I’ve seen enough,” Pang tells them, and both Erik  _ and _ Hendrik nearly collapse in response. Erik had almost forgotten how much magic, aside from his own sigilry, takes out of him… “The two of you haven’t  _ perfected _ this magic, per se, but I think we all can agree that time is of the essence, and yours, Lord Hendrik, is nearly out unless you leave this place.” She sighs. “Still so much to teach you, and yet—”

Pang never manages to finish her sentence; a blood-red crack opens in the sky above them, and an eerily-familiar voice echoes through it, one that brings Erik’s mind back to swords and trees and  _ claws _ and things best left unremembered. Fucking  _ Seregon. _

“So, you’ve had the former Luminary squirreled away here, hm?” she calls, a mass of thick, dark vines (at least Erik  _ thinks _ they’re vines?) piercing through the crack towards them. “No matter. There’s nothing you can teach him that can match up to my power now!”

Wow, what a typical villain line. Outright  _ cheesy,  _ like something out of one of Mum’s old stories; it barely shakes Pang or Hendrik, and yet it  _ terrifies _ him. 

Pang sighs yet again. “It was only a matter of time, it seems. Fine, then. Erik, Hendrik.”

Erik finally manages to tear his eyes away from the living nightmare in front of him.

“The abilities I taught you can certainly be used alone, but they were made to be used in tandem. Combine your powers and drive off Seregon!”

Hendrik nods, summoning the same familiar orb of light, but Erik hesitates. He had all of the Luminary’s powers at his disposal and  _ that _ sure as shit didn’t beat Seregon before; it couldn’t even beat her  _ lackey,  _ and here he is, being asked to fight her off with barely a fraction of what he had before. It’s a lost cause, he’s sure of it. The best he can hope for with  _ this _ situation is another nasty scar to add to the collection.

And yet...a strange voice rings out in his head, through his panic:  _ stay strong, child of light,  _ it tells him.  _ Or would you rather meet your end here?  _ There’s a hint of a laugh behind it, oddly enough.  _ No, you’d rather go out with a bang, not a whimper, right? _

Well, whoever they are, they’re right. He’d  _ much _ rather die fighting, so he steels himself as best as he can, pouring all of his energy into that trick Pang taught him and releasing it in a flash of light.

As the vines wither, Erik  _ swears _ he sees Pang smile.

\---

It just feels like blinking, and yet Erik wakes up back in the temple, Serena, Sprout and the new Grand Master hovering over him.

The Grand Master grins. “It seems you’ve made it back to the world of the living just fine. You and Lord Hendrik both, in fact.” He gestures towards another bed, where Hendrik is snoozing like his life depends on it. (Well, given that he was wasting away while he trained in some weird sort of afterlife, that’s probably  _ exactly  _ what’s going on.)

He sits up slowly—ugh, traveling to death and back took a  _ lot _ out of him, didn’t it—but Serena lays a hand on his shoulder, gently shoving him back down. “Oh, no, you don’!” she tells him with a smile that Erik knows means  _ don’t even try it. _ “You’ve ‘ad quite a trip, an’ you need to rest up!”

He glances at Sprout and the Grand Master, who both nod.  _ Shit. _ They don’t have  _ time  _ for him to rest, as much as he’d like to. (But, then again, maybe they do; maybe they have as much time as they need, if Seregon has to resort to whatever the hell  _ that  _ was instead of killing her himself.) But whatever, if they want him to rest and won’t  _ let him move _ until he does, he might as well get some extra shut-eye.

When Erik wakes up next, he finds his too-doting caretakers have dispersed; the only person left in the room is Hendrik, sitting up on the edge of his own bed, looking  _ far _ healthier than he had in the shrine at the mountain’s summit.

“Uh, hey,” Erik begins. He’s never been the  _ best _ at talking to Hendrik, but now, after he’s been gone (and fish-ified) for months? This is gonna be hard as  _ shit. _ “You haven’t been slacking, huh?”

Hendrik looks at him like he’s still not  _ entirely _ sure Erik isn’t a ghost. “I have done the best I can under the circumstances. Truth be told, I am rather used to fighting alone, though it happened far more when Mia was still young.”

Shit, right,  _ Mia.  _ “Have you seen her? Or, uh, anyone?”

Hendrik doesn’t give him a proper answer at first, merely shaking his head solemnly. It’s only after a few too-long moments that he speaks again. “I had hoped, had you survived Yggdrasil’s fall, that she would be by your side, but it seems we are both alone.”

“Not really,” Erik says before even  _ thinking,  _ “Cobblestone pulled through okay, and my best friend came with me. It’s just been the two of us for a bit, but…” He trails off as soon as his brain catches up with him.

Should he really be telling Hendrik this? The poor old man’s been through enough, hasn’t he, between losing Zwaardsrust, losing Erik, losing Mia  _ and  _ losing Erik again? He really oughta be more considerate, huh.

Shit, he  _ did _ learn from his adventures.

To his  _ eternal _ blessing, Hendrik doesn’t seem bothered by it at all. “I am glad to hear it. It would have broken my heart to hear that you traveled here alone. It is too cruel a world for me to wish that on anyone, least of all my own grandson.”

Erik braces himself to bristle at that, but...huh, it’s not  _ quite _ as weird as it was before, for Hendrik to call Erik his grandson. Maybe he’s just happy to see Hendrik alive and well after all. “Well, we got time to talk on the road,” Erik tells him, prying himself up and grabbing his bag. “We still got a lot of friends to find, right, Gramps?”

Hendrik stops in his tracks as Erik finishes his sentence, a look of shock adorning his face. Erik  _ graciously _ pretends not to see the tears in his eyes.

“Oy, sleepy’eads,” Serena calls from the hallway,  _ thoroughly _ interrupting the moment. “I ‘ope you’ve both rested enough! The Gran’ Master says we oughta get movin’ before long!”

Erik would be lying if he said he was confident in his ability to save the world, or even hopeful in the  _ slightest.  _ But he has friends—no,  _ family _ —by his side to do the hoping for him.

As he leaves the temple, the sky looks just a bit brighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it was weird that the High Lama effectively takes over after Pang's death but has an entirely different title.
> 
> Hm, who could that odd voice be? :3 Just wait a couple chapters!
> 
> Next time: Erik, Serena and Hendrik encounter a small army.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Team Former Luminary now up to three, Erik, Hendrik and Serena look for anyone they can help and end up joining the world's strangest traveling show, all while the author roasts the parts of act 1 they left out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! Welcome back to the Troublerouser show, where Erik suffers at my hands. This chapter! Was a struggle! I know I said that last time but it was. Not to mention the increase in Worldly Bullshit coming for my ass...but hey, let's put the real world aside for a bit. I apologize if this does come across as a little Disjointed, I worked on this in bursts. Ideally this would have been put up at a reasonable time but Age of Calamity came out today and I needed to fawn over this iteration of Zelda and I blinked and it was 8 pm. (Seriously she's so GOOD in this what the hell)
> 
> I actually commissioned something for this!!! The ever-lovely puffinpastry drew [their take](https://puffinpastry.tumblr.com/post/634858844784394240/commission-from-thechavanator-for-tallronica-in) on mardi garb Veronica!!! She's beautiful and I love her.
> 
> I maintain that while Sylv would have definitely given everyone whose name isn't Rab or Hendrik a proper Mardi Garb...Veronica lives to roast Erik.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! :3c

“There’s naught of note in Puerto Valor,” Hendrik tells them, “unless I have missed something dramatic during my time in the Void. Perhaps it is best to remove that from our list of places to visit.”

“Won’t we need to go there to grab a ship, anyway?” Erik replies, still checking it off his mental list anyway. “Still, might as well clear out the rest of this place anyway. Where else is there to go?” The Bastion and Heliodor are taken care of, the Kingsbarrow has nothing worth their time anymore...was there anywhere else to go?

Hendrik gestures to their right, towards a sprawling path they hadn’t yet seen. “The Fall seems to have given us a new path to take. Perhaps it’s best to follow where it leads?”

Well, that’s as good a plan as any. “Let’s go.

\---

It’s weird, honestly; why is there already a road here? Erik really doubts the architects were working mid-apocalypse…

“Per’aps there  _ used _ to be a road ‘ere?” Serena happily suggests. “Maybe somethin’ covered it up?”

Hendrik nods. “It must have been some time ago, but I recall that this is the case. I know not when the road was blocked, only that it was some time after Mia was grown enough to fight by my side. She refused to stay in the Academy, choosing instead to travel with me.”

Huh. So for all her talk about her life being centered on Erik, Mia really was doted on, then. Maybe she was just huffy when she —

There’s a shout in the distance. “I cannot die so soon!”

Oh, fuck. Hero time, isn’t it? Erik rushes towards the voice, leaving Hendrik and Serena to follow him. He reaches for his greatsword, clutching it tightly as he finds himself face-to-face with—with some kind of horrifying parade float?

“Get ‘im, boys!” In the blink of an eye, Erik’s vision is flooded by strange young men in even stranger clothes (not that they’re  _ bad,  _ by any stretch of the imagination), weapons brandished and pointed at a monster that Erik had  _ not _ seen, given how much attention that  _ stupid float _ draws.

“Oy, you  _ idiot,”  _ a familiar voice rings out from the float, and Erik  _ cannot  _ believe he’s saying this but he’s never been happier to be insulted in his  _ life.  _ “Do you  _ want _ to get run through, because believe me—”

She stops, leaping dramatically from her perch and jabbing a finger  _ directly _ into the scar over Erik’s heart, what the  _ fuck,  _ Veronica.  _ “You _ ruined my date.”

Okay,  _ way _ too much to process. Why is Veronica leading around this band of oddballs? What the  _ fuck  _ is she wearing, with the feathers and the glitter? When did she have a  _ date  _ planned and how did Erik ruin it? And why is he so glad to see her?

Serena, ever so oblivious, wanders up to her with a curious eye. “Oh, Erik, is this one o’ your friends?”

Before Erik can answer, Veronica laughs. “Is this your girlfriend from back home? Wow, you really  _ did  _ come from a backwater town, Erik.”

The two sputter at the claim. Goddess, Erik  _ loves _ Serena, he really does, but not like that. He’s not into women. (And he’s pretty sure Serena  _ is, _ anyway; he’s never asked, and Cobblestone didn’t have too many eligible singles, but he’s  _ definitely _ caught her looking at a few of the girls in the Bastion.)

“Ugh, looks like I’m going to need an extra costume after all. And that’s assuming these ones will fit…” Veronica paces, grumbling, “I’d counted on the dumbass finding Gemma first so we could get them properly fixed up, but I can just pin them, right?”

Erik simply watches. The fuck is she on about?

“Oh, shit, I  _ entirely  _ forgot about him.” She rushes past them, towards a monster corpse and a man who  _ probably  _ was the source of the yelling he heard earlier. “Are you alright? I’m not letting anyone die on our watch.” She holds out a hand, pulling the man to his feet.

“Ah, yes, thank you...and your band of strange men.” He brushes the dirt off of his clothes. “I had planned on scouting out the cause of Phnom Nonh’s problems as of late, but I had forgotten that the monsters have grown more powerful, and I let my guard fall.”

She bows and, with a  _ surprisingly  _ knightly tone, tells him, “The Soldiers of Smile won’t let a civilian suffer while we are around. So, um, what’s the problem in Phnom Nonh?”

“Miss Veronica,” Hendrik interrupts, looking physically pained in doing so, “perhaps this is a question best asked once our dear civilian has been escorted back to the city?”

She glances back at his, flashing a wicked smile. (Erik fears for his life.) “Well, if you’re so  _ insistent… _ Arturo!” 

The apparent second-in-command of her merry band joins her, handing her a storage chest of some variety, filled with Erik doesn’t want to know what. “You’re joining the Soldiers for now. No ifs, ands, or buts. And if you’re one of us, you ought to dress the part.”

Erik’s sure he was right to fear.

\---

Veronica hits the ground laughing the moment he reveals his outfit. Serena, bless her, in her own  _ far _ nicer outfit, at least attempts to hide her giggles.

“Great, so you’ve  _ actually _ dressed me as a clown this time.” He should’ve expected it from the minute she mentioned costumes; she’d  _ never _ miss a chance to make him look like a dumbass. “Thanks for leaving off the nose this time.”

Veronica smirks at him in return as she peels herself off the ground. “Didn’t work with the outfits, unfortunately. Believe me, I  _ tried.”  _

It’s genuinely unnerving how easily he slips back into banter with her, even given their whole apocalypse situation. It’s almost like this hasn’t fazed her at all.

She  _ just _ manages to get herself back on her feet before she collapses once more, body racked with the world’s largest giggle fit. “Oh, goddess, this was so worth it. We could die tomorrow and I’d be  _ happy.” _

Erik turns to see what’s grabbed her attention and is greeted by the  _ angriest _ clown he has ever seen. He cowers behind Serena, watching as the clown grabs his staff and—wait, that’s Hendrik’s staff. That’s  _ Hendrik. _

He snorts, covering his mouth to ensure Hendrik doesn’t hear him. There are genuine tears in his eyes. He’s with Veronica; if he can’t stop Seregon, he’ll at  _ least  _ be satisfied having seen clown Hendrik. 

“Alright,  _ soldiers,”  _ Veronica says, fighting back more laughter as she rises yet again, “let’s move out. Next stop, Phnom Nonh! Hopefully with  _ far _ fewer possessed murals.”

Erik and Hendrik nod in agreement as Serena quirks her head to the side. Okay, so  _ maybe _ Erik left that bit out of his retelling. Oh well, nothing important happened there, anyway.

“So, uh...” Shit, Erik never learned this guy’s name. “What’s going on in Phnom Nonh?”

Their rescued civilian stares at the ground as he walks. “The monsters became more aggressive after Yggdrasil fell, and the city suffered until a dragon saved us.”

A dragon? Erik hasn’t met too many friendly ones. Like that weird one with the jar that stole Sylv’s age.

“She defeated the monsters, and she offered to continue protecting us in exchange for our most precious possessions. The townsfolk and I obliged, and for a time it was peaceful. But before long, the monsters came creeping back, and the dragon had vanished, taking our treasures with her.”

“So you were trying to find ‘er? “Ow brave of you!” Serena swoons.

He shakes his head. “Ah, no. I was merely searching for my  _ foolhardy  _ son. I suspect that  _ he  _ went to find her, instead.” He sighs. “No matter. He will surely come crawling back with his tail between his legs before long.”

Hmm. Erik is supposed to be a hero, right? Even without the lightning? “We can go find your dragon, or whatever. And send your kid home, if we run into him.”

Veronica gawks at him, Hendrik beams at him with pride, and the Phnom Nonh-ite simply nods. “We would certainly appreciate it. The Fall has hit all of us harshly, and we cannot spare many fighters. The ones who haven’t left for the casino are simply too exhausted.”

The casino? Who would be gambling at a time like this?! (Okay,  _ maybe  _ Erik would be, if things were different.) “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s what we do.”

The man holds back a laugh of his own. “Yes, I can certainly see that.”

The last of Erik’s joy at seeing Veronica again slowly wilts.

\---

“I’m leaving the rest of the Soldiers here,” Veronica tells them once their rescue has been dropped off. “They’ll clean up the monsters in town; the rest of you lot are coming with us. You can take off the costumes if you’d like, though  _ I  _ certainly won’t.”

Erik bolts for cover the instant the words are out of her mouth, throwing his  _ normal _ adventuring clothes back on in seconds and tossing the clown garb in his bag. “Thank fuck,” he grumbles when he returns to the group.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Goddess, at  _ least _ go inside first.  _ Anyway, _ the locals said that the dragon took her hoard to a cave in the south, so that’s our best bet.” She draws her sword, pointing it down the road out of town. “Move out!”

It really is stunning how much she sounds like a knight right now. The hell did she do before joining the circus?

Out of the town gates, fighting creepy umbrellas and odd aubergines (seriously, where does Seregon come up with some of this stuff?), slowly making their way towards the dragon’s so-called hoard...the party halts in place as they notice bushes rustling.

“Alright, ready your weapons,” Veronica tells them, as if she’s leading an army of amateurs and not the former Luminary, the commander of the Last Bastion, and a literal warrior king. “The small fry are usually out in the open, so whatever’s in there is likely—”

The monster in the grass dashes past them, brandishing a particularly fearsome stick. Ah, it’s not a  _ monster  _ monster, just the tiny-human kind. “You-You’re with the dragon, right?! I’ll fight ya for everyone’s treasures!”

Well. This is  _ far _ from what Erik had expected those bushes to hold. He fears for what happens if Veronica tries to challenge him.

“Oh, gosh, we’re not with no dragon at all!” Serena tells him, slowly approaching him. “We’re tryin’ to get rid of her!” Count on Serena, friend to all things small, to talk down the kiddo.

He slowly lowers his stick, gazing up at her with wide eyes. “Oh! Maybe ya can help me, then!” He points in the direction they’re headed. “The dragon’s a liar! She took everyone’s treasures and then sent the monsters to town!”

And there it is. Of course the dragon is in charge of the monsters. This is getting predictable.

“Wait.  _ Wait, _ don’t tell me...” Veronica sighs. “Your father is looking for you, and asked us to send you home if we found you. Though we  _ were _ expecting someone much...taller.”

Erik  _ finally _ learns to put two and two together. Shit,  _ that’s  _ the guy’s son? From that description, Erik really was expecting, you know, an adult.

The kid lets out a huff, crossing his arms and pouting. “Dad doesn’t care about me. All he cares about is Mom’s  _ stupid  _ necklace. He’s prolly just sayin’ I’m embarrassin’ him.” He holds up his stick again. “But if I can get it back, an’ if I can beat the dragon, then Dad would care about me. Right?”

Erik watches Veronica’s face grow pale as she grimaces, turning from the group. Huh, all that time needling her for backstory and she starts caving as soon as a kid starts talking.

“‘Ow about this, love?” Serena asks gently, leaning down and taking his stick-free hand. “We’ll take care of the dragon, an’ we’ll tell your dad that you got rid of her. Alright?”

He nods. “Okay! Tell him Son did her in!”

Erik groans. Is that seriously the kid’s name?! How lazy...he expects to hear Veronica groan along with him, but she’s lost in her own little world. Convenient.

“Onwards, companions,” Hendrik calls, leading the way while Veronica is distracted. Erik grabs her wrist, pulling her along.

He’s really not sure what he expected of this dragon, he thinks as he peeks into the cave, but she’s...a wisp of a thing, honestly, counting coins with her long claws. “Not much use for these once Seregon is done with the place,” she mumbles. “But! Still nice while it lasts. Maybe I could place some bets in the casino…”

Seriously, what’s with the casino? And why would Puerto Valor let monsters in, anyway? (The only place that really would is...wait, no, were they  _ serious _ about turning the MMA arena into a casino?! Fuck, he wanted to fight as reigning champion one of these days.)

“How long is it going to last, though…” she hums as she dumps the coins back onto the hoard. “Think, Avarith, think. Maybe I  _ could  _ do a little extra saving...perhaps Puerto Valor is due for an invasion?” She cackles—and is quickly cut off as Veronica sweeps into the cave, pointing her sword directly at the dragon’s throat.

“Fucking  _ opportunist,”  _ Veronica snarls, though Erik is sure the effect is ruined by her outfit. “Call off your monsters, let Phnom Nonh reclaim their treasures, and I’ll  _ consider _ sparing your arse.”

“Oh, but why would I do that?” The dragon—Avarith?—growls in response. “The Lady of Shadows has offered me a spot on her roster if I make the humans’ lives miserable enough. And, well, I’m doing a rather good job of that.” She gestures towards a caged corner of the room—shit, there’s  _ people _ in there?! As far as Erik’s concerned, he’s not dealing in mercy when  _ that’s  _ happening right in front of him.

“Oh, I understand,” Serena mumbles, not that  _ Erik  _ really understands, but it’s immediately forgotten as Erik swings his greatsword at Avarith (hoping the adults in there at  _ least _ cover the kids’ eyes) and the battle begins.

“Oh, no, you don’t!” Avarith yells as Erik begins casting his sigil, and the marks of light etching into the ground suddenly halt as Erik finds himself unable to speak. Well, it’s a good thing Veronica’s leading this whole expedition, then. But without his sigils…

Hendrik pauses, focusing as an orb of light forms in his hands, and Erik gets an idea. He doesn’t have to speak to use that weird sword thing Pang taught him, right? So he pours as much magic as he can into his hands, summoning that strange sword just like he had in the Void and unleashing it with a silent roar. His power combines with Hendrik’s, crashing into Avarith and leaving a smoldering crater in her place.

Or, well, it would if he was the hero he’s  _ supposed _ to be, but unfortunately for him, the dust clears, and she’s still standing, though certainly worse for wear. Veronica takes the opening, lighting her sword and slashing at the dragon, and finally Avarith falls.

“You can come out now, love,” Serena calls, and Son peeks into the cave cautiously before creeping in. “Go find your mum’s necklace!”

As Son sorts through the gold pile, Erik frees the civilians trapped in the cave. “Why the—“ Erik coughs. Shit, silence spells are a lot nastier on the through than he thought. “Why the hell would she take people?”

“She claimed to be causing misery,” Hendrik replies. “If she were tearing loved ones from each other, that would certainly be cause for misery.”

Veronica...has separated from the group entirely, staring out of the cave into the wilderness. Erik creeps up behind her, intending to scare her shitless but stopping when she turns towards him with misery etched onto her face. “Ugh, not in the mood right now, arsehole.”

Erik rolls his eyes; she may be upset, for  _ whatever  _ reason, but there’s no need to stop  _ that  _ aspect of their banter. Even if his words oughta be nicer. “Uh. What’s wrong, then?”

She sighs. “Later. Don’t we have a child to bring home?” She gestures towards Son, who dangles a broken jeweled necklace from one hand.

Well, this will be a fun trip back.

\---

“Veronica!” One of the Soldiers of Smile calls as they reach the town gate. “Why didn’t you tell us you were off to fight the dragon? We would’ve helped you! Or at least escorted the townsfolk back!”

Huh. That would’ve been much more helpful than praying the monsters wouldn’t come after the civilians, wouldn’t it? Well, too late for that now.

Veronica laughs (is it just him, or does it seem forced?), telling him, “She was  _ easy. _ No need to bring you lot out!” She points towards their little warrior’s home. “At any rate, we’ve got a kid to deliver.”

Said kid hides behind Serena. “Um, Miss S’rena,” he mumbles, “d’you think Dad will be mad at me for breakin’ the necklace?” He holds it up once more, and Erik can see just where the clasps have busted.

Serena ruffles his hair. “‘E’ll understand, I promise you. We’ll be right beside you!”

He smiles up at her, taking a breath and pushing the door open as Erik and company follow him in. “Um, Dad,” he whispers, “‘m back. An’ I beat the dragon,  _ an’ _ I got Mum’s necklace back.”

His father storms towards the door, cursing under his breath before enveloping his son in a hug. Wait, hold up, all that fuss about how  _ foolhardy _ his son was and now everything’s hunky-dory? Erik sure as shit isn’t  _ complaining, _ but how did they reach this point?

“‘M sorry,” Son mumbles, audibly sniffling as he jingles what’s left of the necklace. “It was broke when I got there, an’ I couldn’t fix it. I know it was your treasure, but—”

His father pulls away, laying a hand on Son’s shoulder. “My child, I lied. I did not trust that dragon; I suspected that, should I tell her that you were my treasure, I would never see you again. I am so, so sorry for making you think otherwise.”

Erik can hear Serena sniffling. What a softie.

“Thank you, all of you.” The father nods at each of them. “Though, I had hoped to thank your clown friend, as well.”

Erik glances behind him. Huh, where  _ did _ Veronica go?

He leaves the house, scouring the town for her, following the hushed directions of the rest of the Soldiers of Smile before finding her at the town’s edge. “Seriously, Ronnie, what’s up with you?”

He expects her to bristle at the nickname, but she merely sighs. “That’s what Pap—er, Father called me, when I was a kid. When I was expected to grow up and become  _ the greatest knight Puerto Valor had ever seen, _ or some nonsense like that.”

Erik holds back a laugh. That sure explained why she knew how to boss people around, but Veronica as a  _ knight? _ That’s pure comedy, right there. Is that why she couldn’t stand that place?

“Oh, I agree, it would be  _ bollocks. _ I never wanted any of that. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the greatest when it comes to proper knightly fighting; swords and whips are basically all I’m good with.” She swings her sword dramatically before sheathing it once more. “But I  _ can  _ cast illusions. I can keep a fight going while those with proper skills take down our enemies.” With a flick of her hand, Erik sees his outfit change in his peripheral vision (he’ll allow it. Just this once), and watches her cut a slice into a nearby rock formation with wind magic. “But how useful is that when you’re supposed to be on the front lines?”

She dispels the illusion with another wave as she flops dramatically onto the road. “Father always brushed my concerns aside. We got into a fight, and as the circus left town that night I hitched a ride with them. And I fit in just fine, of course, and I  _ did _ love performing, once I got used to it, anyway.” She sighs again. “But at the same time...ugh, I hate going all touchy-feely with people.” She grimaces. 

“Anyway,” she continues, or maybe starts a new tangent? “I need to make sure the Soldiers of Smile are taken care of if I’m going to start traveling with you lot again, right? I  _ could _ take them with us on the Stallion, but it was  _ already  _ getting cramped…” Yet another sigh. “I know where they could stay, but that means talking to Father, and I am  _ not _ looking forward to that. So if I must…” Her face screws up in disgust. “I’d rather not do it alone. So you’d  _ better _ come with me when I talk to him. Besides, you owe me for ruining my date.”

Erik grins. “You got it, short stuff.” (Seriously, what’s with the date?!)

Veronica huffs. “Keep  _ that  _ up and I  _ will _ put you back in that costume.” She waits for no response before waving her hand, dressing him in clown regalia once more. “Actually, I lied. Another word out of you and I’ll make that nose work.”

Erik clamps his mouth shut for the entirety of the too-too-long trip to Puerto Valor.

\---

“Soldiers!” Veronica calls, and her small army (and Serena?) salute her in turn. (Erik really wonders about the logic of this whole situation while they’re standing directly outside of Puerto Valor’s gates.) “I’m joining the Luminary on his quest to save the world! Which, unfortunately, means I have to leave you lot behind.”

The reactions among these strange, strange men are rather varied, from sniffles and outright crying, to tearful begging, to a sort of resigned acceptance. Veronica seems  _ blissfully  _ unphased by this. “Pull yourselves together!” she tells them, without any real frustration behind it. “I’m not leaving you  _ alone. _ I just...have some business to take care of, first. Hendrik, Serena, Dave, keep them busy for a while.  _ You,” _ she adds, pointing at Erik, “are coming with me.” She nearly drags him away from the group, towards that huge villa Hendrik had them visit last time they came through.

She brings a hand up to the front door but stops short, fist hovering in the air as if something froze her. Erik quirks an eyebrow at her, but she rolls her eyes, knocking  _ far  _ harsher than she really needs to. (Not that he can blame her, really.)

The door swings open and she almost decks some poor servant in the face. “Oh, shit, sorry,” she blurts out, leaping back. “I’m...here to see my father.”

The servant squints, looking her up and down before his eyes widen as he  _ finally _ seems to figure out who she is. “Oh, Miss Veronica?! It’s been quite some time…”

“Has it  _ ever,”  _ she retorts, unable to hide the smile on her face. (Whoever this was, she seems to have fond memories of him.) “I…” And with that word, the smile drops. “I need to talk to Father. Tell the rest of the staff to cover their ears.”

The servant grimaces, nodding all the same. “I shall pass that on. Best of luck, Miss Veronica.” He gestures up the stairs, presumably towards Veronica’s father’s room.

She cautiously pries the door open, slipping inside with Erik at her heels. “Hello, Father,” she mumbles in the general direction of his bed.

Don Rodrigo (right, that’s his name) shoots upright, wincing as he does so (probably got injured fighting any monsters that dared to invade town). “You…” he growls. “You dare show your face back here…in that  _ ridiculous  _ getup.”

She storms up to the bed, feathers, glitter and all. “Some things are more important than my  _ pride. _ You, of all people, ought to know that.” She huffs, and Erik takes a step back to avoid any impending fallout. “I’m only here because I need a favour.”

Rodrigo grumbles (ah, Erik can see where she gets it from). “Ah, so you think you can come crawling back with your tail between your legs, asking for  _ Papi _ to save you.”

She crosses her arms, leaning over him. “It’s not for  _ me, _ arsehole. And, in case you haven’t noticed, the world is falling apart around us. I’m not exactly the most equipped to deal with that.” She jabs a finger in his face. “Not that  _ you  _ would know, of course. You never  _ listened _ when I told you that.”

Rodrigo…laughs? “My foolish, foolish Ronnie. You truly think that all that matters to protect people is standing on the front lines? There is far more to being a knight than destroying enemies. Chalky and Robert could fight better when the three of you were younger, but I never expected you to be them.” He turns his head towards Erik. “Tell me, boy, has my Ronnie ever helped you without her sword work?”

Veronica rolls her eyes, probably preparing for whatever disparaging nonsense Erik is going to spout. But today, and only for today, Erik decides to be  _ nice _ to her. “You have  _ no  _ idea how many times she saved our asses from being caught by Heliodor,” he says. “The only reason we got  _ close  _ is cause Captain Baldspot could see through it.”

Rodrigo snorts at the nickname as Veronica takes a step back in shock. (Don’t expect it again, clown girl.) “You see? I never expected you to be a front-line fighter. You can be a knight, you can protect those in need, using whatever skills you have at hand. You already have.”

As soon as these words leave his mouth, the door slams against the wall and the room is  _ flooded _ by Veronica’s personal army.

“Sorry, love, I couldn’t stop them!” Serena calls over the cacophony of  _ oohs _ and  _ ahs _ and “Miss Veronica!”s. Hendrik bows his head in shame.

Erik is loving every second of this.

“Er, yes,” Veronica adds. “These are...well, they’re the ones I’m protecting right now. And if I’m to help  _ this _ poor sap—” she gestures to Erik for emphasis— “I certainly can’t bring them  _ with _ me. So I, er, was hoping that you’d look after them, until Erdrea is safe again.”

Rodrigo frowns for a moment, and as funny as Erik thinks it would be to force Veronica to take along twenty colorful almost-clowns, he  _ really  _ hopes they don’t actually have to fit them all on the Stallion. But after an  _ entirely too-long  _ pause, Rodrigo ruffles Veronica’s hair (to her immense, highly-visible discomfort). “Ah,  _ m’hija, _ of course. Though they are certainly in for a lesson if they stay here!”

The most vocal of the Soldiers races up to the bed with a starry-eyed gaze. “We get to learn from your dad, Veronica? I’m alright with this.”

Erik catches a quick glimpse of the mischievous look in Veronica’s eyes. “You certainly do. Though, I don’t quite think he’s dressed for the job…”

She waves her hand, and Rodrigo finds himself in a matching feathery, glittery outfit.

Erik can’t name what emotion covers Rodrigo’s face in that moment, but whatever it is fades with a roll of his eyes. “Perhaps a change of apparel isn’t  _ entirely _ out of the question if I’m to be your teacher.”

Veronica drops the illusion. “Shit, I thought he was going to  _ hate _ that. Do we have an extra costume?”

\---

Veronica sighs in relief the instant the Stallion pulls away from Puerto Valor. “Don’t get me wrong, I love those poor boys,” she mumbles, “but I haven’t been alone in  _ months.” _

“You’re not alone  _ now,” _ Erik snarks in reply. As much as he hates to admit it, he’s glad they can get back to their normal banter. Even if Serena’s now watching in horror, like she’s ready to step in the instant things get too bad.

“Where to next, loves?” Dave calls. “Anythin’ catch your attention while you were mullin’ about in town?”

Hendrik frowns as he tries to recall. “I believe I heard the casino’s attendants complaining about a lack of patrons.”

Erik glances at him. “Who the fuck would gamble while the world is dying?” Did that ever cross their minds? Goddess, talk about single-mindedness.

Veronica rolls her eyes. “Apparently a  _ lot _ of Phnom Nonh citizens are. Didn’t you hear Da?” (Erik suddenly realizes that’s the name of Son’s father, and once again feels the urge to fight every single person responsible for child naming in that godforesaken tourist trap.) “But if they’re not going to Puerto Valor…”

Erik groans. “Fuck, they really  _ did _ turn the MMA arena into a casino, didn’t they?” This might actually be the third-worst day of his life, after Yggdrasil falling and getting thrown in prison for  _ existing. _ “I guess that’s our best shot, the—”

There’s a muffled  _ thump _ below deck, cutting off Erik’s train of thought entirely. Serena wordlessly climbs the ladder down to the bunks, and the rest of the non-steering occupants of the Stallion quickly follow.

“Ugh, something got into our food stores,” Veronica grumbles as she looks over the bags of rations that have found their way to the deck floor. She, Hendrik and Serena scramble to pick them up. “No sign of what did this…”

Erik catches a glimpse of something behind a crate full of...something else, he presumes. “Hold up. I think I found it.” He creeps ever closer, curious what he’ll find under this bundle of purple fabric…come to think of it, it almost matches his hood. 

And that thought throws him into a melancholy he hasn’t felt since the Bastion, hell, since he  _ woke up. _ He’s glad Serena’s with him, he’s glad Gramps and Ronnie found him again, but there’s still no sign of Eleven. He’s been able to push off  _ that _ brand of melancholy in the wake of monster fighting and an endless assortment of odd characters, but now it’s just him and the sea, and whatever the fuck awaits him beyond this godforesaken crate.

Speaking of which… “Hey,” Erik says, as gently as he can muster, reaching out to tap the purple bundle—

Which  _ immediately _ bolts away from him as soon as his finger makes contact, scrambling to the corner farthest from Erik, hands (hands?) flying back and forth to the tune of pages turning. Shit, how is that thing writing so fast?

The page turning stops as the bundle keeps writing until the book—an  _ alarmingly familiar _ book, shit, how many times had Erik seen that book in their tents or their hotel room?—skids across the floor. Erik reaches for it as the bundle goes rigid, aside from one hand circling over its heart.

Erik doesn’t need to read the pages to know approximately what it contains, doesn’t need to watch the hood fall and see familiar blue eyes staring at him in fear and confusion to know what happened. But Erik is a masochist, he supposes.

_ Fuck, this was the first page my ink would stick to and I don’t know why. Uh. Sorry for raiding your food supplies I’m just  _ so hungry  _ and I didn’t know what else to do you can do whatever you want with me I guess you can throw me overboard or drop me off whenever you dock or whatever sorry sorry sorry _

Erik tears his eyes from the page, looks back at Eleven, and concludes once and for all that this might  _ actually  _ qualify for the worst day of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never have I had so much difficulty writing a character as I have with Rodrigo. I CANNOT figure him out.
> 
> This entire chapter was just me building to the end, tbh, I figured that out like two paragraphs in and I was SO excited. I'm not sorry for leaving off there, or for moving the Amnesia Boy Acquisition, because why is he all the way out there. How did no one notice him down there before that point. I AM sorry about the lack of commas, it just Felt Right for someone who's very clearly panicking.
> 
> Next time: Amnesia Boy Interrogation Hours. Will they make it to the casino? Probably not! Will Veronica ever tell him about the date, or will he have to find out from Mia? Who knows!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the wake of discovering one memory-deficient Eleven, Erik aids in a gentle interrogation, proves the definition of insanity, fails to understand a metaphor, and accidentally engages in property damage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's chapter is a bit on the quieter (and shorter) side, because attempting to merge the Seer stuff with Mia time would be terrible. I hope you enjoy this iteration, I basically had to put them together from scratch, haha. (Tried to lace in some stuff with the act 3 reveal, but...well, we'll see how THAT goes.)
> 
> Some discussion of scene placement in the end notes, hehe.
> 
> This Eleven is a hell of a balancing act! Amnesia boye a little hard to write, hehe...
> 
> I am inclined to say "this is not the best" but I think if I even try that Puff will kick my ass. (Forgive the ramblyness of these notes, I had fun sensory overload time while putting this together.)

“So you recall nothing, then?” Hendrik asks; Erik’s  _ pretty  _ sure he looks concerned, but Hendrik’s always been fairly hard to read. Maybe he’s just squinting in the light from the setting sun.

Eleven shakes his head.  _ “The first thing I can remember is waking up on the beach. Anything before that is just lost to me.”  _ (Erik’s eternally glad his somewhat-clumsy sign language skills thoroughly convinced Eleven that he doesn’t have to write everything down.) He glances down at his hands.  _ “Sorry I can’t be more helpful.” _

This Eleven is nothing like the vibrant, goofy thief Erik had first met, had traveled alongside for a  _ year.  _ If anything, he’s like...like he was in those few moments where he let himself be vulnerable, even for a minute.

It occurs to Erik that, as close as he and Eleven are— _ were,  _ anyway—there’s so much about him that Erik still doesn’t know.

Serena moves to lay a hand on Eleven’s shoulder before watching him tense and deciding against it. “You ‘ave nothin’ to apologize for, love.” It’d be kinda funny that Serena, of all people, is leading the discussion despite knowing Eleven for all of two minutes, if the situation weren’t all-around depressing.

It seems that Hendrik and Veronica were the lucky ones of their bunch...and if Eleven wound up without his memory, who’s to say whether the rest of his missing friends came out unscathed? What if the rest of them wound up like him, missing most of their lives? What if what happened to Mia or the twins is  _ worse? _

Ugh, if he’d just been stronger…

Eleven taps him on the shoulder, his hand racing back to his side the instant Erik looks at him.  _ “If you don’t mind me asking...why are you all traveling? Most of the folks I’ve met don’t want to risk traveling with the world like this.”  _ (Oh, his speech is all wrong, it’s way too formal, way too  _ neutral. _ Erik wants someone to fix him.)

“I, uh…” Erik runs a hand through his hair as he debates how to answer the question. Is it fair of him to dump all of his insecurities on this poor kid who, for all intents and purposes, he’s just met?

Veronica, of all people, saves him from having to answer. “We’re trying to fix things. For everyone.” Erik’s rarely seen her like this, aside from any dealings with kids (and maybe the Soldiers of Smile). She’s actually weirdly gentle. He hates it.

_ “That’s awfully nice of you…”  _ Eleven pauses, leafing through his journal; Erik can see...well, honestly, he can’t really make much out. There’s  _ something _ written there, sure, but the words all blur together, not to mention the myriad scratch marks from where Eleven tried to write on them. All too suddenly, Eleven slams it shut and tosses it down.  _ “If it won’t be too much trouble, could I come along? I can fight, a little bit, and if worst comes to worst, I can just carry supplies, or something. I just...don’t feel right, standing by while people like you are trying to make a difference.” _

For a moment, Eleven seems almost like his old self; there’s a light in his eyes that Erik recognizes from their very first meeting. But still, the words are all wrong, and there’s still a faint haze of confusion in his gaze.

Hendrik smiles at him. “Eleven, you are always welcome to travel with us. After all, Mia and I do still owe you a great deal for saving Erik from certain execution.”

Eleven’s jaw drops and his eyes widen as he looks between Erik and Hendrik.  _ “I...I did what? Are you sure you have the right person?”  _ He toys with the edges of his sleeves.  _ “I really don’t think I could do anything like that…” _

“You’d better believe it. Without you, the world would be down a Luminary.”

Eleven gasps, glancing back at him, and if Erik had thought he’d seen the old El before, it couldn’t compare to the look of genuine  _ recognition  _ in his eyes.  _ “Luminary…” _ He uses the sign he and Erik had coined (because just  _ light _ felt weirdly presumptuous), and for a second Erik thinks he may have had a breakthrough...until he clutches his head, screwing his eyes shut. When they open again, that same strange haze returns.  _ “It...sounds familiar…” _

Serena hums. “Why not tell ‘im the ‘ole story, Erik? Jus’ like you did for me?”

Erik sighs. “I  _ guess _ there’s no harm…besides, it’s gonna be a long trip.”

\---

Eleven tears his eyes away from the ocean as Erik finishes his story.  _ “That’s a heavy burden to bear all by yourself.” _

It’s odd, hearing that from someone who isn’t himself. Because for all of Erik’s  _ I’m the Luminary, Yggie’s gonna take care of me _ bullshit, he never  _ was _ alone, was he? He had Eleven, and the twins, and Hendrik and Mia and even  _ Veronica.  _ He had Serena and Mum cheering for him in the dungeons.

And he had decided that he was a one-man team. How stupid of him.

But he’s not gonna lay all  _ that  _ on Eleven’s shoulders. Not when he’s like this. “Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Erik says with a shrug. “It’s more that....well.”

_ “‘Someone should have done it better’. Is that what you were going to say?”  _ Eleven quirks an eyebrow at him.

Erik blinks. Even like this, Eleven’s still good at reading him. “Uh, yeah. How’d you guess?”

_ “It’s what I would have said, if it were me.”  _ Eleven sighs.  _ “Were you always like this?” _

“Huh?” Like what? Erik doesn’t feel any different.

_ “So down on yourself. I don’t think I’m in much of a position to talk, but...well, I haven’t known you for very long, but it doesn’t really suit you.” _

Ah. Well, he’s got a point. “Well, uh—”

The boat suddenly lurches forward, and Erik instinctively grabs Eleven’s hand, keeping him steady on the deck. When did it get so dark out?! And what is that strange gurgling noise…

A strange, large, scaly head peeks out of the water. “Ah...I thought we had rid ourselves of you in Nautica. But it seems I was mistaken…”

Shit, is  _ this  _ the thing that attacked Nautica?! It destroyed the mermaids, left him with no clue on where to go next...oh, Erik is going to kick this thing’s ass.

He watches the world around him tinge red, but he’s almost  _ prepared  _ for whatever this...this Wild Side does to him. Almost, because it’s not quite the same as it has been, like something’s holding him back, keeping him tethered to rational thought.

He glances beside him and sees Eleven’s hand glowing a dull red where it’s latched on to Erik’s. Maybe Gemma was on to something when she mentioned the two of them being able to control it?

But it seems Eleven isn’t quite enough to keep him in check, and he feels something  _ snap _ in his head. Fuck strategy, fuck planning, this thing hurt people and he wants it  _ dead. _ He drops Eleven’s hand, gripping his greatsword and leaping off the deck to strike the monster head-on.

It gurgles out a disquieting laugh as it shimmers red, and Erik bounces back onto the ship with an ache in his arms and  _ no _ impact on the monster. “Did you  _ really  _ think you could defeat Alizarin of the Spectral Sentinels? With the red orb’s power amplified by the Lady of Shadows, the only thing that could harm me is the Luminary’s power.” It glares down at Erik. “And what, exactly, can a powerless husk of Yggdrasil’s power do to me?”

Alizarin swings at the ship once more, and Erik forgets to feel sorry for himself as his strange power surges through him. Instead, he charges at Alizarin again, and as the ship barrels towards the port, Erik finds his sense returned to him as he sinks beneath the waves.

If he thinks hard enough, he can almost remember a faint warmth surrounding him, a dull light illuminating the sea around him. But now, all around him is cold and dark, and he slowly loses the ability to think at all.

\---

Erik has already seen the afterlife, or the pathetic excuse for one that awaits everyone now, and this is  _ definitely  _ not it. Which is the only reason he knows he’s not dead.

It’s bright, almost  _ too  _ bright, and it’s green, dotted with little yellow and pink and red flowers. The sky is a vivid blue, unlike the grayish hue that’s marked daytime for so long. So he’s not awake right now, either. But if he was dreaming, he probably wouldn’t realize it, right?

“Why do all of my little pet projects start with drowning…” He hears a sigh carried on the wind. “Honestly, can’t I get a few who just need advice  _ without _ me having to fish them out?”

There’s something (some _ one?) _ perched atop the house in the distance. Or, well, Erik thinks so, but every time he blinks it vanishes or reappears.  _ Weird. _ He has no weapon here, so whatever it is  _ might _ kill him if he goes investigating, but at this point, what does he have to lose?

He cautiously approaches the house, and whatever’s up there stops flickering in and out of existence, instead changing forms. Some kinda shapeshifter? A chameleon monster? Is this some weird test to prove that  _ the power was really in him all along _ or some other hokey fairytale bullshit?

“Are you going to stare all day, or will you join me up here?” The same strange voice calls to him again. Is it coming from whatever’s on the roof? Sure enough, whatever’s up there seems to be staring down at him. “The fish won’t catch themselves.”

Fish? Honestly, Erik’s not feeling so hot on fishing now that he’s been on the other end of the hook...but, then again, there’s nothing  _ else _ to do around here in this vague wherever-the-fuck. So he inelegantly pulls himself onto the roof, grabs a spare fishing rod, and drops the baited end into the water.

Not a single nibble in however long he’s been at this. Ten minutes? An hour? (Okay, probably about thirty seconds.) He sucks at fishing, probably, just like he does at just about everything since Yggdrasil. Ugh.

He feels eyes boring into his skull, and turns to find the mystery flickery person staring daggers at him. “Really? Not even going to ask?”

Erik shrugs. “I’ve been through a lot of weird stuff. Sentient mural, the time I became a fish—seriously, why did you take an ex-fish  _ fishing _ —getting my soul literally ripped out of my body...I’m getting pretty hard to surprise.” (Visibly, anyway.) “But it sounds like you’re itching to talk about your flickering thing, so go ahead.”

He watches the stranger shift through ten equally-perplexed faces. “Flickering? The fuck are you—” They pause, snapping their fingers, and suddenly they settle on a single appearance. Rather generic compared to what Erik had expected, to be honest; they look just like any normal girl he’d run into on the streets. “Oh. You don’t have a goddessdamned clue who I am, do you?”

Erik just stares at them blankly.

They sigh. “Right, sheltered country boy. What was Yggdrasil thinking…” With a dramatic throat-clearing and an equally-dramatic bow, they tell him, “I am the Seer, giver of advice, maker of deals, and savior of drowning boys, it seems.”

Seer, Seer...hadn’t Eleven off-handedly mentioned something about a Seer? But whatever, there are  _ other _ concerns bearing on Erik’s mind right now. “Uh, what the fuck  _ is  _ this place? And what’s with your whole form-changing deal?”

For a moment, they seem to pout at his lack of reaction to their introduction, but as soon as he  _ asks  _ about their shapeshifting, the indignance vanishes; all that’s left is a rather pained look in their eyes. “I made a deal, that was part of it,” they say, and Erik can  _ tell  _ they’re leaving something out. But he dealt with Eleven, and he dealt with Veronica, and he won’t press them. “This place...well, it’s not part of the deal  _ per se, _ but I’d consider it a perk of the job. Let’s just call it my domain. A place for my lost souls to compose themselves, maybe make a deal or two.”

Right… “So you brought me here to make a deal? Sorry, I don’t think I have a soul left to offer. Seregon’s still got it.”

They laugh, nearly falling off the roof. “Really? You  _ honestly _ think that demonic asshole’s got your  _ soul?  _ Nah, you’re still holding on to yours until you kick the bucket. But we can talk about  _ that _ once we’re done here.” And with that, they return their focus to the river below their feet, letting the conversation lapse.

Fantastic, another questionable amount of time with nothing to show for it in the end. Erik can just tell.

He opts to spare the Seer from his screaming, assuming they’re not telepathic. He’s seen enough to know that that’s  _ definitely  _ a possibility.

\---

Erik yanks his fishing line out of the river and slams it down. “I give up. I’m not catching a goddamn thing.”

The Seer reels in their own line. “Well, yeah, duh. There’s no fish here. It’s a  _ metaphor.” _ They grab Erik’s rod as they leave him to contemplate it.

A metaphor? He’s been sitting up here wasting time for a fucking  _ metaphor, _ one he can’t even figure out, at that?!

“Doesn’t matter,” they tell him. “We’re done anyway, if you’re that frustrated by it. See, that’s your problem.” They hop down from the roof. “Meet me inside when you’re done having your temper tantrum.”

Erik stays up there a few moments longer, kicking his feet against the roof as he contemplates whether staying here forever is a good idea. Assuming the Seer even  _ lets  _ him. They can probably kick him out if they run the place.

There’s a thump below his feet. “Stop kicking my house! I’ll make you something to break if you need to  _ that _ badly.”

Erik hops back onto solid ground, etching his sigils into the ground and practicing his Quadraslash on the resulting rock formations. The rock shards splinter off to all corners of the alternate-dimensional expanse...including into the walls of the Seer’s house.

He can hear muffled groaning from inside.  _ “Please.” _

Okay.  _ Maybe  _ he should suck it up and go talk to them.

He slams the door open and shut as he joins the Seer inside. They snort. “Some Luminary  _ you _ are. But, after the last one, well, I guess a change is nice.”

“I’m not a Luminary anymore,” Erik grumbles. “Not after I...well, you said I didn’t get my soul stolen, but whatever the hell happened there, I sure as shit can’t do the thunder thing anymore.” 

They roll their eyes. “Uh, yeah, buddy. That’s what the metaphor’s for. You can’t  _ force _ it. Your powers got swiped, they’re not just gonna come back like nothing happened. You gotta be  _ patient.” _

Patience isn’t exactly Erik’s forte, if the fishing thing proved anything. Fuck.

They pat him on the shoulder. “Look, you’ll get there. Just don’t give up, and don’t regret the steps that brought you here.” Wow, for once they actually  _ sound _ like an advice-giver. “Regret will kick your ass.” And  _ right  _ back out of it, huh.

“Uh, thanks.” No regrets...easier said than done, that’s for sure.

“If you  _ really _ want to thank me, you’ll get your ass moving and fix Erdrea,” they grumble, waving a hand in the air. “Probably time to send you back to the surface before you  _ actually _ drown.”

“Wait.” Erik holds a hand up, as if that’ll  _ actually _ stop them from kicking him out. “Let me ask you a few questions, first.”

They eye him strangely. “Alright, if you  _ want _ to drown. Hit me.”

“You’ve got history with Eleven, right? How do we fix his memory?”

They blink. “Oh, you’re smarter than I gave you credit for...as for his memory, I’m afraid that’s  _ also _ a matter of being patient. Good luck with  _ that _ .” They sigh. “Is that all?”

“One more.” Erik takes a deep breath. “What was the old Luminary like?”

The question knocks all the mirth and mischief out of their eyes. “ _ Terribly _ dull. Acted like he had a stick up his ass most of the time.” They turn from him, staring out the window. “And, above all else, a fool.”

Erik has little time to process that answer before the false world around him flickers away.

\---

“I swear to Yggdrasil’s last twiggy remains, if you survive countless monster attacks and die from  _ drinking too much water, _ I’ll cremate you and feed the ashes to Seregon myself.” What a fucking wake-up call,  _ thanks,  _ Veronica.

Erik groans, blinking awake as he coughs out the last of the water in his lungs. Serena gasps, laying a hand on his shoulder and casting a heal spell. He eyes the rest of the group, who seem to all breathe a sigh of relief as he slowly (painfully, ow) sits up. “Uh,” he rasps, still coughing, “what did I miss?”

Veronica groans. “Oh, nothing, just dove off the ship after an untouchable monster— _ twice,  _ even—and nearly  _ drowned. _ You’re lucky you washed up at all. I was half-convinced to call it quits right then and there.”

She complains, but Erik can see the relief on her face. She really  _ does  _ care.

“Are you feeling well, Erik?” Hendrik asks. A stupid question, honestly, given that he’d  _ nearly drowned, _ but he doesn’t have the energy to call him on it.

Erik stretches, wincing at the remaining aches in his bones. “Eh, I’ve lived through worse,” he jokes, or attempts to joke at any rate. His audience isn’t laughing. Shit. “We gotta hit the road, right? Still that casino to check out…”

“There’s always the inn down the road,” Serena muses. “Seems everyone there’s been ‘avin’ the same strange dream…”

Erik contemplates it for a second, but that just sounds like a trap fit for a former Luminary. (And if it’s not, well, he’ll let them profit for a little while longer.  _ Someone’s  _ gotta come out positive from the end of the world, after all, right?) “Nah, I’m good to get goin’.”

The others eye him strangely, but Veronica rolls her eyes and starts walking. Hendrik follows close behind, Serena casting a lingering glance before walking alongside him. Soon, only Erik and Eleven are left, the latter staring out to sea.

“Hey, let’s head out,” Erik tells him, but Eleven doesn’t move. Erik follows his gaze, eyes lingering on golden words shimmering on the ocean’s surface.

_ With courage in your heart, lightning in your hand, and regrets in the footsteps behind you, walk onward, hero.  _ The letters glisten under the moonlight, flickering once, twice, before fading. The Seer’s handiwork?

He glances at Eleven, whose eyes widen in what seems almost like  _ recognition  _ before he rubs his temples and that familiar haze settles in once more.  _ “For a minute, that felt…” _ Eleven shoves the words aside, shaking his head.  _ “You’re right. We oughta get going…” _

There’s a pause, sentence seeming unfinished but Eleven clearly not being able to figure out what’s missing. Erik steps closer, wanting to take his hand like he has so many times...but this Eleven doesn’t remember, and the  _ last _ thing Erik wants to do is scare him off.

Erik starts walking, sighing as he hears Eleven’s own footsteps behind him.  _ Walk onward... _ easier said than done, he thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look man, Erik would _not_ have a good time with the fishing.
> 
> Okay, so the game definitely INTENDS for you to beeline to the inn, take care of the gloomnivore shit, and THEN go for Jade, but I think it's more fun (read as: inherently traumatic) to save two of the worst-off of your friends (one who can't even get his situation taken care of yet) before reliving the worst day of your life. I MIGHT be a fictional character bully.
> 
> If you're American and read this in a timely fashion, I hope you have a nice thanksgiving, and if neither of those apply...well, I hope you have a good day anyway!)
> 
> Next time: time to gamble!!!

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: thechavanator (main)/ eleven-of-light (dq spoiler blog) / chellion-characters (OC content)  
Twitter: nonotfromportal (main/personal) / dqChellion (primarily dq)  
Discord: Chel!#2061
> 
> revamped for more slash better links, but I still recommend checking the [soldiers of smile discord.](https://discord.gg/tq5DrwR) :3


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